Whole Lotta HITwoman?
by a proud geekfreak
Summary: Doesn't everyone love a bad girl? Maybe some more then others... Carlton may not be so by the books after all.. If this was heartache, why did his side hurt so much?
1. Don't Mess with the SuperSniffer

**A/N: **Here's a new story for you... it's centered more around Lassiter and Juliet, but Shawn and Gus do show up in it. Basically, we all know Lassiter had a thing with his partner, which is a no-no. So I got to think maybe that's not the first bad thing he did. And then this story popped in my head. So here you go.

* * *

**Miami 1994**

Juliet O' Hara was on top of the world. Her cheerleading team just won regional, and there was rumor that the quarterback was going to ask her out. Grant it, she didn't find Jeff, the quarterback, all that interesting, but he was a quarterback and she was cheerleader, it just made sense.

Of course, she _was_ on top of the world, until he bumped into her. Derek Bagley. Dark sweatshirt, baggy black pants, chains clinking together as he walked, and that bright blood red hair spiked. He was the complete opposite of the perky, blonde, cheerleader who wore her outfit proudly. Still he gave her a grin that would have made all of Juliet's cheerleader friends turn away and scoff with distaste, but it made Juliet feel a little giddy inside.

"Hey pom-pom," he greeted, eyeing her over.

"Derek," she replied causally.

"What's with the outfit?"

"We won regional."

"Whoop de doo," he scoffed.

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Well then, I see we have nothing else to talk about."

She went to stride past him when he stopped her with a question. "Hey pom-pom, you wanna get dinner tonight and then maybe later you could show me some of your cheerleading moves?"

She stared at him shocked. She quickly glanced over at her all her cheerleader friends, swarming around the football players. If anyone of them noticed she was talking to Derek, they would quickly come over and pull her away, claiming for her own protection. He was not the type of boy Juliet should consider dating. He was bad and dangerous, someone sweet and loveable Juliet should avoid.

"Pick me up by eight."

**Present Day**

His hair was ruffled. His shirt was not tuck in and he had missed a button while he hurried to get out the door. It was also not the same shirt he was wearing earlier. He had given up on a tie, finding it too hard to tie with one hand this late at night. Very disheveled for his normally tidy and orderly self, something Shawn just had to comment on.

"Hey Lassieface, you look different," Shawn began. He turned to his partner, Gus, and asked, "Doesn't he look different?"

Gus glared at him, obviously not happy to be out of bed at this hour either. Shawn snapped his fingers. "I know what it is. You're copying me Lassie."

"What!"

"No tie, untucked shirt. I'm flattered you're trying to copy my style Lassie," Carlton groaned, "but we've all got to listen to our own conscious, walk to the beat of our own drum."

"Spencer, it's almost two in the morning, this isn't me copying your style of what ever the Salvation Army will give you, it's me being woken up late at night, grabbing whatever I could find to get to the crime scene. So shut up," Carlton hissed.

He turned to his partner, Juliet O'Hara. She too had been too tired to get dressed to her normal standards. Instead of her dress jacket and pants, jeans and sweater that Carlton knew Shawn was drooling over. She also did not have her hair up; her blonde wavy hair was down at her shoulder. Carlton overheard Shawn whispering to Gus about how good Juliet looked, and just walked past them.

"O'Hara, what we got?" he asked, trying to sound professional.

"A man was found dead in the bathroom, that had an 'OUT OF ORDER' sign that none of the employees put up. The door was locked from the inside, and looking like a possible suicide," Juliet explained.

"So why is the annoying Boy Blunder here then?" Carlton asked, glaring at Shawn who now seemed in a serious, heated argument with Gus.

Juliet glanced at him quickly and whispered, "Vick's idea of punishment for breaking the window with that pineapple. She said if we ever get a case later then one am, call him and make sure we wake him up."

"Great, for a month she's also punishing us," Carlton muttered.

Shawn waltz up to Carlton, with Gus behind him. Gus pushed him and muttered, "Go for it."

"You do it, you're the one with the nose," Shawn hissed backed.

"What is your problem Spencer?"

"Um… I kinda, see…" Shawn trailed off, looking at Gus pleadingly.

Sighing, Gus walked up to Carlton and placed an arm around him. "See Lassiter, Shawn and I were just discussing how you got hurt."

"Get off me," Carlton snapped and Gus obliged.

"I think you were doing something police force related, but Shawn thinks it would some sex position," Gus explained.

Glaring at Shawn Carlton ordered, "Spencer, don't ever think about my sex life again. Got it?"

As he walked away Shawn turned to Gus and asked, "So… what did you smell?"

"I'm not telling," Gus stated, with an air of superiority.

"Gus!"

"Hurry up and tell Juliet that the spirits confirmed this guy just offed himself and there's nothing to it, so we can go home," Gus ordered. "And then I'll tell you."

"Can I at least see the crime scene first?" Shawn asked.

"Just hurry up, I've got a presentation today."

Shawn walked over to the bathroom and quickly peered in.

The man was slummed on the floor, head hung, with no sign of a struggle and no way anyone could have gotten in or out after the door was locked. The police had already bagged the empty pill bottle and seemed ready to wrap this case up. But then Shawn noticed a piece of the tile ceiling foam that has broken off, laying in the corner. Frowning, Shawn has to shake the crazy idea out of his head and starts to head out of the bathroom.

Glancing on last time at the dead body, Shawn noticed on the man's right hand there was a callus. Smiling, he walked out towards the waiter that was being questioned by Carlton and Juliet.

"So you didn't notice anything strange?" Carlton clarified.

The waiter shook his head. Carlton turned to Juliet and said, "All right, I think we can finish up here."

Crying out, Shawn interrupted him. "Oh boy! My arm, it suddenly feels heavy. Like an extra ten, twenty pounds added on to it."

He began swinging his right arm, trying to shake off what ever was attached to it. "It looks like a black square box, with a handle!"

"A briefcase!" Juliet cried, excited she could figure out his vision.

"Yes, someone get the lovely lady a price," Shawn replied, grinning at Juliet, who grinned back. Turning to the waiter, he asked, "Did you notice if the man left his briefcase here?"

A look of realization passed over the man. "Yeah, when I brought the check to the table, I noticed he was gone and thought maybe he had ditched. I saw his briefcase and went to pick it up when my other table, two women, needed to pay."

"What happened to his briefcase?" Shawn asked.

The waiter bite his lip, trying to think. "When I came back to put it in the lost and found there was money on the table and the briefcase was gone, so I figured he left."

"How was his tip?" Shawn questioned randomly.

"Pretty good, actually. My other table tipped me better, but that's only because with the ladies I can put on the charm," the waiter told, smiling at Juliet now.

She rolled her eyes, and Shawn was about to dismiss the waiter when Carlton asked, "You had a table of two women, you're sure, not just one? When did they come in, before the victim, after the victim?"

"There was two and they came in a little bit after the guy," the waiter answered.

"Where were they seated?"

The waiter glanced back at the tables, trying to remember. "Either that one, or that one."

He pointed to the two off in the corner, the tables often over looked. Carlton nodded and told him, "All right, no more questions right now."

As the waiter walked away, Juliet went to ask Carlton if he cared to share his train of thought, but he ignored her and walked over to the two tables, sitting down in the chair and looking over at the victim's table.

"What is he doing?" Juliet asked.

Shawn shrugged, and told her, "Listen, Jules, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but the spirits and I aren't sure it was a suicide."

She groaned. "No, come on Shawn, it past two in the morning, I just want to sleep."

Carlton came back up to them, looking distressed. He was glaring at a spot on the floor, looking like he was trying to set it on fire. Juliet sent a warning glance at Shawn, begging him not to say anything that would upset Carlton, but Shawn ignored her.

"Lassie, the spirits are telling me this isn't a suicide," Shawn stated quickly and then prepared himself for the yelling.

Carlton looked up from the spot on the floor and made eye contact with Shawn. Shawn was speechless when he saw that there was not angry in Carlton's eyes, just pain.

"We'll talk about it later today with the chief," Carlton told him quietly. "We're done here, you can all just go home."

"Thank you," Juliet whispered and started walking towards the door, but Shawn stopped her once they were a safe distance from Carlton. Groaning she snapped, "What?"

"You don't notice anything different about Lassiter?"

"Other then it's past two am and he's still up, no Shawn I didn't," she replied, eyeing the door to her freedom.

"He seemed… sad."

"No, he seemed tired, like I am, so excuse me Shawn," she stated and walked passed him and out the door.

Gus walked over to Shawn, glaring. "Not a suicide Shawn? Are you kidding me?"

"Gus, if you were planning on killing yourself would you do it in a public place? Or better yet, would pay for you're meal? What would they do, force a dead guy to wash dishes?"

"Is that all you're basing your case on? Him paying for his meal?"

"That and his briefcase was stolen. Someone wanted him dead for his briefcase," Shawn concluded. "So tell me now about what Lassiter smelt like."

Gus started walking towards his car, but turned around and smiled at his friend. "Perfume."


	2. Lassie's Gots a Lassie

**A/N:** this one is kinda long, but I think you'll like it. tell me what you think!

* * *

He let the door to his small, modest house slam shut, not caring who he woke up. He made his way towards the bedroom, and let it open all the way, not trying to flitter the stream of bright hallway light from entering his dark bedroom. The light revealed her asleep, for a moment, peacefully in the shirt he was wearing earlier today. A small smile crept on his face, despite his mood. He had been looking for that shirt after he received the call, and could not find it. She had hidden it, in hopes he would stay in bed with her after her first argument of the fact they had not seen each other in six weeks since she was stuck in Los Angeles on work did not convince him to stay.

The light woke her though, and after a few brief moments of grumbling, she smiled up at him and mumbled, still half asleep, "How'd everything go?"

"You're still here?" he questioned with cruelness he did not really mean. He just could not see her right now, let alone lay next to her.

His tone woke her up like a cold shower. Replying weakly, "Yeah, I thought I'd stay to see if you needed anything."

"Well, I don't you can just go."

"Fine," she replied chilly.

As she threw off the covers, he sat on the bed. As she pulled on pants, he began unbuttoning his shirt, but he was having difficulty due to his arm being in a sling. She saw this and took pity.

"Here, let me help," she offered kneeling next to him. Her fingers began to intertwine with the buttons, but he jerked away from her helpful hand without a word. Sighing, she mused, "Tough case?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," he told her unkindly.

"All right," she stated. She refused to force him to talk, he never forced her to. That was the rules to this thing they had going on. Treat the other the same way they treated you, at that moment. If one was distant that night, the other was distant. If one was in a cuddling mood, so was the other.

She started to unbutton his shirt she was wearing, searching for her own. Carlton scanned the floor for it too, but could not see it. "You can just wear that, I'll find your shirt later."

'_You want to get rid of me that much?'_ she thought, but kept that question to herself. Instead she just nodded and told him, "I'll wash it before I give it back."

He nodded his acknowledgment. With that slightest head movement she left.

Carlton was grumpy the next day at work. It was very clear to everyone there. However, everyone there just blamed it on the lack of sleep. No one really knew why he was so cranky, not even the girl he was cranky at.

And when Chief Karen Vick yelled out, "Detective Lassiter and O'Hara, in my office, now!"

Carlton glowered at some random spot on the ceiling before turning and marching into the office. Shawn and Gus were already sitting in the office. Carlton glared at them before settling into a chair. Once everyone was settled in the office, Karen began, "So, who thinks this wasn't a suicide?"

Only Shawn and Lassiter raised their hands.

Karen groaned and began rubbing her temples for the headache that was sure to form. "Why?"

"The spirits tell me that the man had something valuable in his briefcase that he was killed for," Shawn explained. "Also, why in the world would he commit suicide in a public place, but still pay for his meal?"

"All right, I guess that is a somewhat valid point," Karen admitted grudgingly.

"Oh please," Carlton muttered.

"Detective Lassiter, do you have anything better to add?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing on him. He became silent, giving her some satisfaction. "I thought not, that's why I'm having _her _come in."

The chief said that last part with so much distain that it shocked Shawn, Gus and Juliet. They were shocked, it sounded like the chief truly hated this woman, not just annoyed like she gets with Shawn and Gus, but hate.

"In the name of sweet justice, not her, we don't need her," Lassiter almost pleaded.

"Wait, who is she?" Juliet asked, glancing between her boss and her partner.

"She is someone we very rarely call in, only in extreme cases," Karen explained. "She works with the FBI and is an expert when it comes to how criminals try to hide crimes. For the past two years, thanks to Mr. Spencer here we have been able to avoid calling her in, but this time I don't think Mr. Spencer's inner eye is enough."

"My all seeing inner eye," Shawn corrected jokingly.

"Oh, does it get HBO?" a voice from the door asked in a jesting mood.

They all turned around to see who spoke. It was a woman, almost the age of the chief, but she was someone who aged gracefully. She had deep chestnut hair, with matching brown eyes. Her smile was warm and deceiving. She was beautiful though, there was no question about it.

"Why, yes it does receive HBO and all I have to say is I found the ending to 'The Soprano's' very disappointing," Shawn joked, as he got up to greet her. "Hi, I'm Shawn Spencer, Psychic Extraordinaire."

"Hello Psychic, tell me, how's my future looking?" she asked, grinning at him.

"Well let me ask you something first, you seeing anyone because I see a big fight with someone you were once close with coming up," Shawn told her.

"That's so interesting," she stated sarcastically, "especially since I'm not dating anyone right now."

"Well, the fight is probably with a co-worker or something then," Shawn clarified, unfazed by her sarcasm. "And if you ever need someone to talk to, who better then someone who already knows what you're going to say?"

She let out a small laugh and replied, "I'll keep it in mind Psychic."

"I believed I called you down here for business, not to flirt with my employees," Karen scolded, getting this new woman's full attention.

Her brown eyes narrowed on Karen as she began walking towards the desk. "Hello again Chief Vick, I heard you popped out a little brat, congratulations."

"Yes, forgive me for not sending you an invite to the christening," Karen told her coolly. "But I'm pretty sure the Feds still had you under house arrest then. And by the way, back from Los Angeles so soon? I was hoping you'd be reassigned there."

"Oh no, it was never house arrest, just being detained in a warehouse for four months, and Los Angeles was too dirty for me, I need a clean environment to work," the woman corrected her casually. "Those six weeks were six weeks too long."

"Hold on," Juliet interjected, "who is this woman and why has she been under house arrest and why are we trusting her?"

"This Gypsy," Karen introduced everyone. "And Carlton, care to explain the rest?"

Gypsy whirled around as if she had just noticed Carlton in the room, when in truth he was the first person she looked at. She smirked at him. "Hello Detective Lassiter, long time no see, miss me?"

"Not in a million years Gypsy," he replied, grinning back. "Sorry you didn't like Los Angeles, I'll be sure to tell the Feds that to make sure they send you back."

"Oh good, that way hopefully they'll make my missions longer so I don't have to see you as often."

Juliet coughed, interrupting this string of insults, or lighthearted teasing, or even, god forbid, flirting. She saw the look in Gypsy's eyes and there was no meanness or hatred towards Lassiter. But still, the thought of someone liking stone cold-hearted Lassiter was too much for her to believe.

"Hello Blondie, need a cough drop?" she asked patronizingly.

"I'm just still not sure why we are trusting you," Juliet explained. "What did you do any to get arrested?"

"I was never arrested," Gypsy corrected.

"Please, if you're brought in handcuffs, you can't say you came in on your own," Carlton retorted.

"I let you bring me in Detective Lassiter, thought you need some shred of dignity to remain intact," she replied coolly.

Juliet coughed again.

"Chief, I think your detective is sick, you should give her the day off," Gypsy said, shooting a glare at Juliet.

"Gypsy, just tell them about why you work for the Feds and why you are basically their little monkey," Karen commanded.

"I am not their monkey, they do not control me," Gypsy clarified.

"Please when they say jump, you jump," Karen responded. "You're their pet."

Juliet coughed a little fiercer this time.

"Seriously, go get that cough checked out," Gypsy yelled at her. "Fine, for those of you who don't know, I'm a recovering 'for hire'."

"What?" Gus was the first one to speak after several long awkward and confused moments of silence.

"I used to be a 'for hire', you know someone you give a large sum of money to and I take care of your problem," she spelled out.

"Oh, a hit man!" Shawn deduced and then realized what he said. "You were a hit man!!"

"For hire, hit woman, contract killer, paid gun, anyone of those would work," Gypsy stated, trying to hide her smile of pride at Shawn, Gus and Juliet's shocked faces. Gus had even gone as far to get out of his chair and as far away from this killer as possible.

"Oh, so she was a criminal who killed people… why do we trust her?" Juliet asked, giving Gypsy a once over with her eyes. Gypsy did not look like a dangerous criminal, but looks were deceiving.

"She did turn herself in," Karen explained. "She gave the Feds information and in exchange they offered her no jail time, but she was required to work for them, for what, at least four years?"

"Eight," Gypsy replied through gritted teeth.

"And not only are you their little monkey, but you're ours too," Karen informed everyone. "For at least six more years Gypsy. Six long years before you even get a glimmer of freedom."

The room got very still and cold. There was a serious hatred between these two different women, and this anger was frightening for Juliet to observe.

"Chief, why don't you just tell Gypsy why she's here," Carlton suggested, breaking the tension.

Karen glared at him for a moment, hating that he reminded her that she needed this criminal's help. She sighed and tossed over the case file, explaining, "Stephen McLean was found dead in a restaurant bathroom. Looks like a suicide, but looks are deceiving, right Gypsy? There was a bottle of empty pills was found with him, and he's missing his briefcase."

"Occupation?" Gypsy questioned, glancing through the folder. She had to a least pretend that this was the first time she was hearing about this.

Carlton's eyes narrowed at Gypsy's causally attitude. There was something off about her mood that caused suspicion in his mind.

"He was a TV executive," Karen answered Gypsy's question.

"Chief, if there's nothing else then just filling in this criminal, mind if I go catch up on some paper work?" Carlton requested.

She nodded, but kept her eyes on Gypsy. Gypsy returned the stare, fighting her urges to question Carlton about his sudden departure.

Right before Carlton shut the door, Karen questioned, "Why does the occupation matter Gypsy?"

Sighing, he walked over to his desk to make a very important phone call. With in a few minutes the call was over and Carlton settled on finishing paper work, to pass the time till he had a chance to talk to Gypsy alone. But he could not focus on his work, he kept glancing up at the door waiting for her to come out. He saw Gus, Juliet and Shawn walk out, deep in conversation. Carlton guessed they were talking about Gypsy, she had a habit of always being the center of the conversation. He knew the chief would keep Gypsy back to talk to her alone, well more likely threaten her with no witnesses.

Finally she walked out of the office, and glanced around, probably looking for him. As she made her away across the squad room, Carlton quickly stood up and met her halfway. He blocked her exit and asked intimidating, "Where do you think you're going?"

"I did what I came here to do, so I was planning on leaving," she told him, stepping up to him. She tried to be just as intimidating as him, she was close, except for the fact she was about a head shorter then him.

"What was that? To lie to us?" he questioned, staring into her eyes. She did not blink.

"I didn't lie."

"Then what you tell the chief?"

"I told her it probably wasn't a suicide, that since he worked in Hollywood and it was most likely a professional hit. Then I gave her the name Eric Sanders since he's big in the Hollywood hit man racket," she explained casually.

"Shouldn't you have given the chief a name more like _Erica_?" he interrogated.

She blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"In a restaurant an individual stands out more then a couple, so a hit man would want to be part of a couple, right?" She did not answer him. "There was a couple of woman at the restaurant. One was you, who was the other?"

She stepped away from him. "I wasn't there," she stated coolly.

"Willing to bet your life on that?" he replied just as coolly. "You were there, I could put you in a lineup and have the waiter point you out. And if I do that, then that sweet little deal you have with the Feds is revoked."

"You wouldn't," she dared.

"I already made the call," he told her smugly.

She sized him up, trying to tell if he was bluffing. There was something about his stance that told her he wasn't, and that scared her. What really increased her fear was looking past Carlton to see a man in a dark suit enter the precinct. She did not even need to see his face, she recognized him as a Fed instantly.

"Carlton, no!" she whispered, panicked as she ducked down, using him as a body shield. "He can't see me."

Carlton was squirming on the inside about how guilty he was beginning to feel about doing this to her. But he had to steady himself and continue. "Tell me her name."

"Please Carlton," she pleaded, glancing up into is crystal blue eyes. "Hide me."

"Tell me who she is and I'll get ride of him," Carlton bargained.

"She's my best friend, can't we talk about this later?"

"He's heading this way," he warned.

"Carla, her name I know her by is Carla Pendas," she told him quickly.

He nodded and ordered, "All right, follow me."

He grabbed her shoulders and led her towards an interrogation room. He stuck her in the room that could see into the other room. He put up his hands motioning for her wait and then quickly left. Gypsy sighed and nervously ran a hand through her hair.

Carlton sought out the man who struck so much fear in Gypsy's heart. He found him quickly, the Fed sticking out among the cops. Walking up to him, Carlton straightening his jacket and tie. "Jefferson? Good to see you again," he greeted, his hand stretched out.

"Lassiter, so what's so urgent?" Jefferson asked. Jefferson was an average FBI worker. Dark suit, dark glasses, little emotion. He was in a sense, Gypsy's parole officer. He told her what cases she could take, where she could go, and who she could see. Basically he controlled her, and he liked the power over her a little too much. Gypsy always made sure to limit her time with him as little as possible.

Lassiter glanced around and answered, "Let's talk about this in private."

Jefferson nodded and Carlton led him towards the interrogation room, the side that Gypsy could peer into. Jefferson sat down at the table, and asked, "So, what's going on?"

"Well about the situation I called you about, you can forget about it," Carlton told him.

"Really? I came all this way for nothing?" Jefferson asked.

"Yeah, the situation I called you about didn't pan out," Carlton explained.

"Nothing? No news for me?"

"Nothing."

Jefferson sighed and propped his feet up on the table. "Well this was a waste of my very precious time. So what happened with the kidnapped girl?"

Gypsy stared at him through the glass. Kidnapping? He came here for a kidnapping? Carlton played her, and she found despicable and slightly attractive.

"No, the kid just ran away and made it look like a kidnapping," Carlton lied. "She came back though. Well, sorry to waste your time, you probably have a lot to do."

As Carlton guided Jefferson to the door, Gypsy was too preoccupied glaring at Carlton to notice Juliet O'Hara enter the room. Gypsy was too busy muttering to herself, "Oh he is going to get it."

Carlton turned to the mirror, grinning smugly at her. She shook her head angrily and went into the room, ready to yell, totally forgetting that Juliet would be able to hear every word.

"You little prick!" Gypsy cried, slamming the door behind her.

"What? Something bothering you my dear?" Carlton asked innocently.

Gypsy strode up to him up and poked him in the chest. "You made me believe you had called Jefferson. You were going to sell me out."

"Oh you should know that I would never call Jefferson on you, that man is such a sleaze ball," he told her, grinning.

"You wouldn't?" she questioned sweetly, a smile forming on her face.

"What and risk losing you to Los Angeles forever? I'm not gonna lose you," Carlton assured her softly. He wrapped his good arm around her waist. "I promise Delilah."

He brought his lips down to hers and let his lips brush against hers. She quivered at the pleasant sensation, bringing her hand up to caress his face. However, she snapped back to reality at a disturbing thought.

She pushed him off her and stated, "I don't think you should do that Detective Lassiter, and I really don't think you should call me by my first name."

"Why?"

"Because your blonde partner is on the other side of the glass."

"What?" The color drained from Carlton's face.

Juliet hit the intercom and asked, "Do you two want some privacy?"


	3. Secrets Are Fun Go Ahead and Tell Me One

**A/N:** thanks for the positive feedback guys. so when we last left off Carlton was kissing the hitwoman!!

And the actual title for this Chapter is: **Secrets, Secrets Are Such Fun, Go Ahead and Tell Me One  
**but it was too long to put in the little box

* * *

"It wasn't what it looked like O'Hara," Carlton defended, as soon as him, Gypsy and Juliet were safe from being overheard again. "Delilah and I, Gypsy, I mean Gypsy and I were just trying a interrogation tactic." 

"Seduce them till they talk? I never learn that in the academy," Juliet stated with a smirk.

"It's a new tactic," he replied.

"Does it work? Did you get any more information from this killer?"

Carlton glanced up at Gypsy, the name Carla Pendas rolled around his head. She would not look at him, staring at a spot on the floor.

"No, she didn't tell me anything," Carlton explained as he sat down at a table, placing his head in hand, he missed Gypsy looking at him with a small smile.

"Maybe because you were too busy making out with her," Juliet retorted glaring at Gypsy. Gypsy kept eye contact, but her stared had no anger behind it, just remorse. "She's a killer Carlton, what were you thinking?"

"I came on to him."

Carlton glanced up, surprised. Gypsy kept going, "I ignited the kiss. And let's face it, it's hard to say no to me."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "You know, I think your supervisor would interested in knowing that little fact. And I'm sure he could tell you no."

Juliet started walking towards the door. Gypsy was faster, she was blocking the door, giving Juliet an evil glare. "You do that and I'll make it so it's the last thing you do."

Juliet was not scared. "Move or I'll shoot you."

Gypsy was not going to be intimated by that. "Go ahead and reach for it."

There was only one moment where no one moved, but then Juliet reached towards her gun. In a swift movement Gypsy grabbed Juliet's wrist and twisted, twirling her around bring her down on her knees, cry out in pain and surprise.

"Delilah, no!" Carlton was out of his seat and wrapping his arms around Gypsy. "Let her go, Delilah."

Juliet felt the sharp pain in her wrist subside and she glanced up. Gypsy was there, with Carlton's arms holding her back. Juliet got up, rubbing her wrist. "Why are you calling her Delilah?"

Carlton shared a look with Gypsy, and then answered, "It's just a name a call her."

"It's my name," Delilah explained. "My Christian name."

"Your file says you don't have one," Juliet stated, getting up. "It said your name is Gypsy, but other aliases are Carrie DeLauro and Leanne Black."

"Yeah, well I like to have some mystery about me. I don't go around telling my real name all silly willy."

"So why does Carlton know?"

"Why do you call him Carlton?"

"He's my partner, I'm allowed to call him whatever I want."

"No, you're allowed to call him whatever he wants to be called, and he doesn't like to be on a first name basis with his partners."

"How would you know? Just because you make out with someone doesn't mean you know them," Juliet retorted. Then she turned on Carlton and demanded, "I want to know what the hell is going on."

Carlton sighed and replied, "I had a moment of weakness. She was hitting on me and I took advantage of it for a night of fun."

"A moment of weakness? A night of fun?" Juliet just stared at him with her mouth-hung open. She had never heard Carlton speak like this and it was disturbing to think he had a love life. Shaking her head she asked, "Is it over?"

Both Delilah and Juliet were interested in hearing this answer, but both for different reasons.

Carlton stared at both of them, and then quietly answered, "Yeah, it's over."

Delilah closed her eyes and turned away from him.

Juliet let out a sigh. "Good, I won't tell the chief then." She whirled around to Delilah. "You on the other hand, you murderous low life, you stay away from him."

Delilah sent Juliet her best death stare, something that gained Delilah tremendous amount of respect in the contract-killing world. That death stare helped keep Gypsy on top, but now Juliet barely flinched when she saw it.

Very slowly and clearly, Delilah commanded, "You and me, lunch tomorrow."

"What, you're going to kill me if I say no?"

"Lunch, tomorrow at twelve thirty."

That being stated, Delilah left without another word to anyone.

Juliet placed a hand on Carlton's shoulder and said compassionately, "If you ever need to talk, or get a drink, I'm here for you."

He stood up shaking his head, and did not speak to his partner for the rest of the day.

Delilah twirled her keys as she walked down the hallway to her apartment. She was tired and a little drunk. Her fun state of intoxication that masked her pain was fading, and reality started to seep its way back into her reality. The reality of Carlton saying it was over. God, she needed a drink even thinking about it.

It was taking her longer then normal to figure out which key was her house key when a voice asked, "Need help?"

She glanced towards the voice, hiding a smile. "No it's all right. I'll figure it out eventually. 'Sides, it's not like I have anyone waiting for me tonight. My relationship is over. O-V-E-R."

"You know, I really hate it when you drink Delilah."

"Oh? And why is that Detective Lassiter?"

"You start to sound like Spencer." Carlton took the keys from her hands and managed to unlock the door.

"I don't think that's such a bad thing," Delilah defended, snatching the keys back from Carlton and entering her apartment. He followed her in and already headed towards the kitchen slash dinning room slash living room, for a beer. "I meet your pain in the neck and he doesn't seem that bad."

"Of course you would think so, you're…"

"A night of fun?" she suggested bitterly.

"Oh come on Delilah, I didn't mean it like that," Carlton objected, already sensing a fight. "What was I supposed to say? 'O'Hara, Delilah and I have been having an on again, off again affair for almost seven years, but please don't tell the chief.'"

Delilah sighed. "No, of course not. But you're the one who always said keep it strictly professional at work. Then you go and kiss me."

Carlton stared at her. She was not looking at him. Something had changed since this afternoon, and it was not just the booze. The carefree attitude that she constantly sported was gone. Her demeanor transformed into a more serious nature. Yet the missing smile did not diminish the beauty of her face; in fact it seems to intensify it. But she was sad, he had made her sad and he hated it.

"I just can't figure you out sometimes," she confessed softly. "Last night you wanted me gone, this morning you can't wait. Sometimes I wonder why we're what we are."

He wanted nothing more then to say anything that would make her smile and happy, however he did not know what words would, so he told her the truth.

"I don't know. For about five years every time I saw you I had to try and arrest you. I was married when we started this, and I had never cheated on anyone before. We've just always had lousy timing. But we work and I love this, whatever it is," he confined.

She smiled at his response. Maybe because he was right, they did work for some strange reason, the cop and the killer. It did not make much sense, but they went well together.

She walked up to him and wrapped an arm around his neck. Smiling, she leaned in and whispered, "Yeah, we do work well together. And I know one activity we are very good at."

She kissed him softly, and broke away smiling. She grabbed his tie and led him towards the bedroom.

Delilah rested her head on Carlton's bare chest. She glanced up at him smiling. He returned the smile, running a hand through her hair. Their naked bodies were warm next to each other, and she enjoyed the feeling.

"Delilah?"

"Mm-hm?" she purred.

"That lunch with O'Hara, are you… I mean will you still go…" He was finding it difficult to form the question he wanted to ask.

"Lunch with blondie? I don't even know why I asked her that," she answered him and shifted her body closer to his. "No worries."

Carlton nodded and closed his eyes for a little bit, but then quickly opened them. "Wait, you didn't answer my questions. Are you still going to go to lunch with her?"

Delilah didn't answer, she was too busy faking sleep.

Juliet stormed into police squad, tired and just wanting some coffee. When she saw Carlton holding a barely sipped coffee cup from the café down the street, she figured it was her lucky day.

"Is that coffee? Great." Juliet grabbed the mug from Carlton's hand. She took a small sip, and got a surprise. Carlton groaned as Juliet let out an "mmm."

She took another sip and tried to figure out what she was drinking. It was mocha, with a hint of caramel and a slight undertone of two other flavors that wherever so subtle she could not put her finger on it.

"What is that? It's really good," Juliet asked, taking yet another gulp of the mystery drink.

"Uh, not mine, I'm strictly black coffee," Carlton told her and quickly walked away from her to his desk.

Juliet shrugged and kept drinking her mocha caramel two other flavors drink. She sat down at her desk.

Lunchtime rolled around and Juliet looked up from her computer screen over to her partner. "Got any lunch plans?" she questioned.

"Yeah, I have a meeting with my divorce lawyer," he answered. He stood up and grabbed his jacket. "See ya in an hour."

"Bye." Juliet watched him walk out and then quickly went to the café down the street for her own lunch date.

Juliet slid into her seat across the table out on the patio and stared at Delilah. "So, why am I here? Planning on killing me?"

"Actually, you shouldn't start any cars soon," Delilah joked, grinning. "No, no, no threats on your life from me. Just a friendly little chat."

"So what are we chatting about?" Juliet asked as the waiter appeared at their table.

"First something to drink," Delilah told her, and then turned to the waiter. "Hi, I'll have a caramel mochacino with a splash of vanilla and just a sprinkle of nutmeg on top, thanks."

The waiter turned to Juliet. "Anything for you?"

"Um… just water with lemon," she told him. As he left, she turned to Delilah and commented, "Complicated drink."

"I'm a complicated gal, you might just find that out if you get to know me," she explained.

"So this is a get to know you chat? 'Cause I'm not really interested," Juliet stated firmly.

Delilah glanced down and just stared at the spot where the plate went for a little bit. Finally she sighed and replied, "I don't have a lot of friends. I have one to be exact. I can't be in the same city as her though or else the FBI will send me off to Arkansas or Alaska or Oklahoma, some place even more boring then Santa Barbara. My other friend, well she died years ago. Sometimes I just need someone to talk to."

Juliet looked away. She wanted to be the mean girl who scoffs and asks, "Who cares?" But she was not that kind of girl. She new Delilah really did needed someone to talk to. "All right, what is it you want to talk about?"

"Well, the thing is-" She was interrupted by the waiter setting doing their drinks. Delilah thanked him and brought the mug up to her lips. The smell wafted over to Juliet and she suddenly got a déjà vu feeling.

"Can I try some of that?" she asked quickly, before Delilah could take a sip.

"Sure."

Juliet took a sip, and the mocha caramel flavored filled her mouth. But then two other flavors joined them, the same two flavors she had not been able to identify in Carlton's drink, they were vanilla and nutmeg. Juliet swallowed and just stared at Delilah. She smiled and asked, "Good, huh?"

Juliet kept staring and finally asked, "You and Carlton aren't just a one night fling, are you?"

Delilah's eyes went wide and she just gaped at Juliet. "No, we're not," she told her softly.

"But, but… he's so by the book and you're a criminal?" Juliet stuttered, trying to piece everything together in her head.

"I know, please don't tell anyone, this would ruin him. We've kept it a secret for so long, please, please don't tell."

"How long?"

"For the past six years, almost seven soon," she answered. Suddenly a smile crept on her face and she asked, "Can I tell you how we met?"


	4. Crazy In Love In Santa Ann

**A/N: **So yeah... this is the next chapter in this little story. enjoy it

* * *

**Santa Barbara 2000**

Carlton's head was bent, looking down at his watch, checking how much time he had left on his lunch break all those years ago, when he heard the shuffling of the chair across from him and felt the table move. He quickly glanced up, his hands moving automatically to his gun incase it was a dangerous villain. Instead it was a woman, younger then him with dark chestnut hair, deep brown, almost black eyes, and a smile that made any thoughts of his gun disappear.

He choked out a "Hello." Her ruby red lips grinned wider and then she spoke, "Say something that is more then two words?"

"What? You sit down at my table and order me to speak?" Carlton asked, shocked at her audacity.

She started laughing. A nice soft laugh that didn't draw too much attention to them. Carlton continued to stare at her, but if there had been any angry thoughts of being disturbed on his break, her laughter drove them away. As her laughter faded away, the smile returned as she apologized, "Sorry, but I thought it we'd look more like a couple if you made me laugh. I didn't mean to bark orders at you."

"Look like a couple" he repeated, his eyes getting wide.

"Yeah, it help us blend in," she explained frankly, trying to wave down the waiter.

"What? Why would I need to blend in?" he questioned.

"I'm not saying you need to blend in, but looking like a couple helps," she answered. "A majority of these people in this café aren't going to remember just another couple, but they will remember a man sitting all alone because of the fact they felt pity for him. It's human nature to want to have things in pair. Society wants people to be in a relationship, so you can feel complete and happy."

She expressed the last part so cynically Carlton could not help but raise an eyebrow. "So you don't think you can feel complete in a relationship?" he asked, forgetting to watch the clock.

"No, some people can, but some need two or more partners, or some need none," she clarified. "A relationship does not mean happiness."

Carlton was going to object, but the waiter came over to the table at that moment. The woman smiled up at him and ordered, "Hi, could I get a caramel mochacino with a splash of vanilla and a sprinkle of nutmeg in it? Actually, could you get one for him too?"

"What? Oh no, I'm fine," Carlton quickly told the waiter.

"Come on darling, give it a try, you'll like it," she coaxed lovingly. Carlton was too shocked by being called "darling" to object. She stated firmly to the waiter, "We'll take two."

As the waiter walked away she turned to Carlton who was just staring at her. "Trust me, you'll like it."

"I don't even know your name and you're already ordering my drinks and calling me darling," he stated with a shake of his head.

"Oh, but I know your name," she told him.

"Really?" His hand reached towards his gun.

"Yeah, you're Bob? Or Frank. And suggesting from your suit you have a rather important job, but not well paying. So, I'm guessing assistant to the assistant manager," she concluded. She glanced at him smugly, noticing something she missed before, a golden band around his third finger. "And you're married. Are you happily married?"

"Yes." That was a lie. At the moment Carlton was fighting with his wife about his work schedule.

"So you're cheating?"

"I'm faithful to my wife."

"Then you're not happy. All the happily married men are cheaters or married less then a year," she explained. "But you're faithful to your wife, so you must be miserable."

He did not want to discuss his wife anymore, at least not with her. "Not an assistant, Head Detective."

"What?"

"You were wrong. I'm not a Bob or a Frank, I'm Head Detective Carlton Lassiter," he corrected.

She stared at him, this time it was her turn to be shocked. Without even meaning to, she backed away from the table a little. Her smile was gone and Carlton suddenly started wishing he had kept his mouth shut. She stood and said, "Well, I better get going Detective Carlton, since you're faithful to your wife."

"Your drink hasn't come yet," he stated, hoping to delay her departure. Yet as he opened his mouth the waiter came with their drinks.

She glanced at her cup, and then at his. "Will you at least try your drink?"

He picked it up and took a small the sip. The vanilla seemed to off set the caramel very well. He placed the bright blue mug down and declared, "Not bad, for a girl drink."

She sat back down. "So would you order it again?"

"Probably not," he confined.

"Now why is that? Because you're a big strong manly cop?"

"Yes." Her grin finally returned, and that made Carlton smile.

"I suppose you're one of those black coffee kind of cop, aren't you?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he commented.

"Sometimes it is bad to follow the pack," she stated, sipping her unique drink. She stopped and flashed a lopsided grin towards him. "But then again, you're Head Detective, so you lead the pack. But you're pretty young for that job, so you're either very good or very corrupt."

"Good, I'm very determined and have a high close rate," Carlton told her proudly.

Her eyes traced him up and down till finally they settled on his ice blue ones. "Have you ever done anything bad?" He didn't answer her. "Ever been late to something, or taken just a little bit too long on a break?" He shook his head. "Done anything illegal?" Silence. "That's it, we're robbing a bank today. You've got a gun right?"

"What? No!" he cried, his eyes growing wide.

A giggle escaped those red lips. "Relax, I was just kidding. You need to loosen up, you know? What do you do for fun?"

There was a long pause while Carlton tried to think of what he did for fun. Nothing came to mind. It had been years since he had free time that was not dedicated to his wife and making his marriage work. Still, she was waiting for an answer. "Shooting range."

"Wow, you and the Mrs. need to get out more," she replied with a superior look as she sipped on the last of her drink.

It was that look that got him mad. "Hold on, who are you to judge me? I have a job that requires a lot of my time, but I help people with it. I think it's a good trade off."

"All right, all right, no need to get mad. I'm sure you're one of Santa Ann's finest."

"Santa Barbara," he corrected giving her a strange look.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded and she just let out a "huh" and bite her bottom lip. "I could have sworn he said Santa Ann. Oh well, no worries."

"Wait, are you in the wrong city?" he asked, eyeing her like a loony person.

"No, it's the right city, I just had the wrong name in my head," she explained.

"So why are you in Santa Barbara?"

"Work."

"What do you do?"

"I'm in-between jobs right now."

The confused look that passed over Carlton seemed to please her. "You came here for work, but you're in-between jobs?"

She just grinned madly at him. She had no plans to explain herself.

He leaned in and eyed her suspiciously. "All right, who are you?"

She just smiled at him and very calmly stated, "Well, this is beginning to feel like an interrogation, and I am the type of girl who likes to have some mystery about her, so goodbye. I'll leave you be, you can forget this happened, and go off and be happy and faithful with your wife."

As she stood to leave Carlton asked, "Do you really feel complete being alone and bitter?"

She paused and spun around to look at him. Suddenly he was the smug one in this conversation. It was a strange twist of fate, one she never understood how it happened. She never understood why she did what she did after he asked that.

"I was complete all my life, up until recently," she confined in him. She knew he did not have clue to what she meant, but she did not care. She wanted someone to know she felt lonely. Grabbing a pen and quickly scratching down her number and name she handed it to the detective. "I'm only here in Santa Ann, Barbara, for a week so if you're going to call don't wait the three days."

He glanced down quickly at the information and then called out after her, "Wait, how do I know this is correct and not fake?"

She turned around, with her brightest and most dazzling smile she had, she answered simply, "Because I like you."

He smiled as he watched her walk away, and then glanced back down at the napkin. Delilah. Delilah was her name, the owner of the ruby red lips and enchanting smile. Delilah was the girl who was going to change his life, whether he wanted her to or not. He was already changed after this first encounter, he was late for the very first time.

**Present Day**

"So you just meet, just like that?" Juliet asked, completely mesmerized by the tale.

Delilah sighed, and nodded with a smile. She never had a chance to talk about how she meet Carlton, and she never realized how much she liked talking about it. She hardly got the chance to talk about Carlton and their makeshift relationship. She suddenly felt as though this luncheon was one of her best ideas.

"And you gave him your real name? Just like that?" Juliet questioned. "Even though he told you he was a cop and married?"

Delilah flashed a sheepish grin and muttered, "Crazy huh? In my line of work to fall for a cop? Carla certainly thinks I am."

"You must have really liked him," Juliet commented.

Delilah just smiled to herself. "I feel like I'd die without him. It's pretty crazy?"

Juliet smiled at her. "Not crazy, sounds like you're in love."

Delilah mused on the thought. Love… had she ever been in love? No, she recalled she never had. Love had eluded her all her love. How could she be sure she was in love?

"I dunno, I guess I might be in the early stages of love, but I know he doesn't feel the same," she confessed. "I'm crazy about him, but he sees me as just a plaything."

"No, no, I'm sure you're wrong," Juliet assured. "Carlton's not the type to have… a _plaything_."

She smiled and replied, "Thanks, you're sweet, but let's face it, do you really think righteous by the book Carlton Lassiter could fall in love with a known contract killer?"

Juliet tried to picture her partner falling for criminal, though it wasn't coming to her. She frowned and glanced at Delilah. Delilah seemed so deep in thought at the notion of Carlton not truly caring for her. Her deep brown eyes glazed over, and her hair falling gently in her face, going along with the gentle curves of her face, Juliet thought Carlton would be a fool not to be in love with her.

"He's happy though, he's happy," Delilah thought out loud. "He's happy not being seen with me, he's happy having no one know about us and he's happiest that we're not an official couple, we're just together. He's happy though, he's happy and that makes me happy even if I hate it."

Juliet's eyes darted over to her lunch companion, surprised to see tears in her eyes. "Delilah, you're…"

"Crying, I know. People don't expect me to cry, but I cry just normally I'm in private. And I'm only tearing up, not crying yet," she explained, dabbing away the held back tears. "I'm not allowed to cry, really. When I started in this business my trainer told me I was never allowed to let anyone see me cry, and I haven't, you know, until now. I just miss crying, 'cause you know how sometimes it just helps?"

"Yeah, I do know," Juliet agreed softly. "Could you have talked to someone?"

Delilah nodded. "Yeah, I talked a little to Carlton, but you know I couldn't tell him everything. And then there's my best friend, Carla, but I can't talk to her so much anymore. Especially with her being wanted in a few states. Plus, she doesn't like him. She thinks I threw my life away for him."

As soon as Delilah said it, it clicked in Juliet's mind, the reason a successful contract killer would just turn herself in, for no apparent reason.

"And you want to know what's worst? I thought I could talk to someone, actually talk to someone at the FBI, but I can't. They all just seem me as this harden killer. I asked them if there was anyway I could get an organ donor card, since I don't even have a license and I just want my organs to be put to good use after I die. They laughed at the suggestion, like I was telling some sort of joke. They find it so unbelievable that I might want to do some good that they thought I was joking. Sometimes, I wonder why I ever gave killing for these pricks."

"You turned yourself in for Carlton, so you could be together, didn't you?"

"Well when you say it all sappy like that it sounds pretty pathetic," Delilah muttered, resuming her harden persona. The red, agitated eyes were the only evidence left she had been almost crying.

"It's not pathetic, it's romantic," Juliet cooed.

Delilah rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself. "Well, you better get going, your lunch hour is almost over. I'd hate for you to be late."

Juliet nodded and stood up. She gripped the back of the chair for a little a while. She stared at Delilah, debating on to say it or not. Delilah stared back, with a curious smile. Juliet swore she had never seen anyone smile as much as Delilah did, except maybe Shawn.

Juliet smiled to herself at the thought of Shawn's lopsided, carefree grin.

"You're thinking about a boy," Delilah deduced.

"No," Juliet objected, trying to force her smile off her face.

"It's all right, if you ever need to unload or talk, I guess I owe you one," Delilah informed her casually.

"Actually, maybe we could do lunch again, make it a regular thing," Juliet suggested. "It might be good for you to have someone to talk to who's not a criminal or Carlton."

Delilah smiled up at her. "Yeah, I would really like that. How about once every two weeks? It's spaced out enough that people aren't going to get suspicious. 'Sides, you probably don't want people knowing you're eating with a _low life _like me."

Juliet cringed at her own words. "Listen, about what I said yesterday-"

Delilah shook her head, and waved her off with a hand. "Forget it, I've been called much worse and if he ex-wife ever finds out about me, I'll be called a lot worse. So just go, and I'll see you in two weeks."

"Okay, bye Delilah," Juliet called and walked out of the café.

"Bye Juliet, and thanks," Delilah replied softly.

Juliet returned to work smiling.


	5. Ooohh, Sombody's In Trouble

Carlton returned to work frowning.

His lunch appointment was actually not with his divorce lawyer like he said. It was with Carla Pendas and the meeting left him with a headache.

He was reclining in a chair, sipping on his caramel mochacino with a splash of vanilla and a sprinkle of nutmeg since his was stolen earlier. He was wondering how he would recognize this woman, when a woman from a Hispanic background with dark wavy hair and glare sat down at his table.

"You must be the cop," she stated nastily.

"You must be the killer," he replied coolly, he already knew he was not going to like this woman.

"So what did my little Gypsy tell you?"

"Nothing, I had to threaten her to get a name," he replied. "So is there anything you want to tell me? If you confess, the courts will go easier on you."

"I don't know what you're talking about, is it that suicide? What time was it?" Carla questioned, glancing down at her manicure. She was not sure if the deep purple really fit her.

"I think you know damn well what time the _murder_ was," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, if it was during the time period between five and eight two days ago, I was flying in to the Santa Barbara Airport," she responded, a smirk growing on her face.

"What?" That was exactly during the time of death.

"Yes, check the airport security camera, you'll find me there," she replied and got up. "So cop, I hope this little chat was worth threatening Gypsy for."

Anger bubbled over in him, so he called out, "She picked me over you."

That did it. Carla whirled around and was back in the seat. "No, she did not pick you over me. She picked not being tortured over me, and who can blame her? You don't mean that much to her."

"Really? Because when it was between leaving me or giving up your name, she gave you up," Carlton retorted.

She laughed bitterly. "You have no clue what those bastards at the FBI did to her, do you?"

His stomach flipped. After Delilah had turned herself in the FBI she disappeared with them for four months without so much of a word. When she returned she refused to discuss what occurred, but Carlton did notice she flinched when he kissed her.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you two have had deep talks about it. What is this your second time speaking in over two years? I bet she poured her heart out to you," he replied cynically.

Carla glared at him at the mention of how little her and Delilah chat. She pursed her lips together and snapped, "She can talk to me more then she can talk to you. You judgmental cop. She can tell me what happened at the FBI holding cell."

"All right then, tell me what happened. Tell me what she said when she opened her heart to you," he challenged.

"She has a scar on her left shoulder blade, did you ever notice that before the Feds kidnapped her?" Carla questioned, smirking at him.

His mouth became very dry as he slowly shook his head.

"Try asking her how many times they broke her shoulder to get her to talk," she suggested with a smirk.

He shook his head and stood up abruptly. "You're lying. You're lying about everything. You weren't at the airport, you were killing Stephen McLean, and I'm gonna prove it."

She laughed spitefully at him. His frustration was growing with each chuckle, so he opted to storm off. But he heard Carla call after him, "She might have chose you over me, but she trust me. She talks to me. She listens to me. And I'm gonna make sure she ends this little fling with you before it gets too serious."

He stopped, but did not turn around. "Too serious?"

Carla got up and circled him. "I know your type. You'll fall for her, if you haven't already. Your divorced was just finalized and I betcha the thought has crossed your mind, but just forget it. She could never love you. I'll convince her of that, it will be easy since I already convinced her that she means nothing to you. You're just in it for the sex. This relationship won't last, I'll see to that. Goodbye cop, and I would just save yourself the trouble and end this now."

"End what? The relationship or the investigation?" he questioned, glaring at her.

"Both," she answered and then walked away with only a flick of a hand to say goodbye.

Carlton kicked a chair before he stormed out.

"Lassiter, O'Hara, where are we on the McLean case?" Karen demanded later that afternoon, eyeing her detectives.

It was the moment Carlton was dreading, the moment he had to explain to his boss he knew who the killer was, but could not prove it. Though he would never admit it, he was very thankful for Shawn entering at that moment.

"Oh, oh Chief, I'm seeing darkness," Shawn moaned, flailing his arms. He began gagging and coughing. "It's so dusty in here."

Karen rolled her eyes. "Mr. Spencer, what is wrong with you?"

Gus answered for him. "We were examining the crime scene, when Shawn started feeling dizzy and light headed. He demanded that I take him here."

Shawn dropped to the ground and began military crawling across the floor, whispering, "I'm somewhere dark and dusty, and the floor, the floor feels like it's gonna give out from under my weight."

Shawn ended up by Juliet's desk and smiled up at her. She grinned back, lean down to him and asked quietly, "Why are you whispering?"

"The spirit I'm channeling seems to be doing some sort of spying and needs to be absolutely silent," Shawn answer, and then slithered over to the lose tile in the floor. He lifted it up and then started shaking and flopping on the floor.

"Should I kick him?" Carlton suggested staring at the spazzing psychic.

That snapped Shawn out of vision. He shook his head clear and glanced up at everyone. "I know how the killer did it."

He then seemed to pop up and explain, "The killer got into the ceiling, and crawled over to where McLean was and killed him."

"Got into the ceiling Mr. Spencer?" Karen repeated disbelievingly.

"Yes, the ceiling was made up of tiles, wasn't it? The killer climbed up into the ceiling and then crawled over to where the victim was. The killer lifted up the tile and then slipped into the bathroom and killed him," Shawn concluded with a wave of his arms.

Karen glanced between the psychic and her two of her best detectives. Juliet just shrugged and Carlton rolled his eyes. "I guess Mr. Spencer, that is a plausible theory of how the killer got into the bathroom with the victim, however we still don't know how McLean was killed. The autopsy report confirms that he died from an overdose of Capoten, which was the empty bottle of pills found with him. Are you suggesting that the killer forced him to take the pills?"

"No, no, no," he replied. "He never took those pills, in fact the spirits are telling me he was never even prescribed those pills. The bottle was planted on him to look like a suicide, he was actually injected the medicine."

"But there weren't any needle marks on the body, the coroner didn't make a note any of if there was," Juliet objected.

"The killer was a professional, they hid the needle mark," Shawn explained. "Probably in some place unexpected like between the toes or fingers. Or-"

"The back of the neck," Carlton mused quietly. Everyone turned to him, and he repeated louder, "The back of the neck. Right at the hairline, it would hide the mark and give the killer access to a main vein. A professional would know about, and I think I know which one, Carla Pendas."

"Good, go check out this Pendas character and see if she has an alibi for the time of the murder," Karen ordered and turned to go back to her office.

Juliet nodded eagerly and stood ready to go. Carlton stayed where he was and stated simply, "I did already."

Karen spun around and stared at the detective. "You did? When did you do this and why was I not informed?"

"I just did it in my lunch break, and it was a spur of the moment thing," Carlton explained.

"Spur of the moment? You aren't a 'spur of the moment' kind of guy Detective Lassiter," Karen said, her eyes narrowing in anger. She felt a twinge of betrayal for this. "Where did you get the name? I told you to investigate Eric Sanders."

"I have, he was no where near Santa Barbara during the murder, but I did some research and Pendas' name came up. I checked her out and I get the feeling that she committed the murder," Carlton justified his disobedience.

"All right, were you able to find any evidence against her?"

Carlton shook his head. Karen scoffed and yelled, "Well that's just great! Your feeling is about as substantial as Mr. Spencer's vision."

"It gets worse," Carlton muttered quietly.

"Oh it does, does it? What's worse besides no evidence?"

"She has a pretty convincing alibi," Carlton told her.

"What? She has an alibi?" Karen repeated.

He nodded and reached across his desk to grab a black rectangle. He handed it over to his superior and clarified, "This is a surveillance tape of the suspect getting off a plane twenty three minutes after the time of death."

"A video," Karen began, but was too flustered to express her thought. Finally, after a few failed attempts, she let out a huff and demanded, "Detective Lassiter, in my office now!"

Carlton nervously fixed his tie and followed the chief into her office. She let the door slam shut and quickly turn the blinds up so none of the wandering eyes from the squad room could peer in.

"I don't know what I'm more upset about, you going behind my back to follow a lead, or your lead being a dead end," Karen stated angrily, glaring at him from behind her desk.

"Chief, it was just a lead-" Carlton began.

"No, don't start with that crap," she snapped. "Tell me where you got that name."

"I was just looking through some case files and a few cases involving Carla Pendas stuck out by the way she kills her victim," Carlton explained.

"Do I look like I just feel off the turnip truck Lassiter? I don't believe a word of that bull," she retorted. "And even if you were looking through some files, did they happen to be FBI files? And I'm just wondering how you got a hold of them. A certain friend in the FBI?"

Carlton shifted uncomfortably and replied, "I can't remember what types of files, but they probably weren't FBI though."

Karen folded her arms and began tapping with her finger. "Listen Detective Lassiter, if I find out you're lying to me, so help you, you will be in so much pain there won't be enough medicine in the world to ease it."

He gulped and nodded his acknowledgement of her threat.

"Good," she muttered, and walked over to the door. She flung it open and was not surprised to see Gus, Shawn and Juliet all standing by the door, trying to over hear any little piece of gossip. "Detective O'Hara, as of now, pending of discovery of any new evidence, the McLean case is considered cold. Pack it up and get back to work. Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster, leave in one minute or you won't live long enough to regret it. Everyone got it?"

They all mumbled their agreement, but none of them moved.

"Well get going!" she barked.

They all bustled at that. Gus practically had to drag Shawn out of the station, but they did leave and Juliet quickly started packing up the case files. Carlton made a move to go help her, but Karen stopped him.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I may not know the whole story, but I know enough Carlton. If your information came from the little FBI slut that I think it came from and I find out there is anything other then a profession relationship going on, I will have no problem calling her superiors and having that sweet little deal of hers revoked, and bring you up for disciplinary action. Understand?"

Carlton took a moment to digest and then slowly nodded. He started to walk away when she said just loud enough for him to hear, "You have to ask yourself, is she really worth it?"


	6. It's All Fun and Games Till

a/n: so this is one of my shortest chapters, sorry. u might hate me for it, but oh well! had to be done.

* * *

His body pressed up against hers. She let out a small moan, as she held his arms around her. It was very peaceful, sleeping together. Her hair always seemed to get in his face though. Yet, he did not mind, her hair smelt just like apples. He took one more deep breath of apples as he began to fall asleep, but Delilah's sudden jerk woke him up.

She moaned again, but it was painful this time. She tried to pull away from his grip as she tossed from side to side. Carlton did not know what to do, so he held his grip and tried to sooth her. "Delilah, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

She didn't wake up though, she kept fighting to get away. Her legs started kicking and her arms hitting whatever was in her reach. Carlton let her go and grabbed her wrist, trying to stop her from doing any damage.

"Delilah, wake up," he said, more forcefully.

She broke away from his grasp, and woke up yelling, "No!"

For a moment, she had no clue where she was. The fear that she was back there, at that moment with her monster over whelmed her. Sitting up, trying to figure out what she could use as a weapon, she was not prepared for a hand to touch her shoulder. Grabbing the hand she twisted it.

"Ow, ow, ow," Carlton cried. "Delilah, you already dislocated one shoulder, don't injure the other one."

She let go immediately, realizing what she was doing. "I'm sorry, are you all right? How's your arm? I didn't break anything, did I?"

"It's fine," he assured her. "What's wrong with you? You were having some kind of nightmare. Is everything okay?"

"Fine, just fine," she muttered, sitting up and pulling her legs close to her chest.

Carlton watched as she took several deep breaths, trying to steady herself. "You've been jumpy recently, what's going on?"

"Nothing, just a nightmare," she told him.

"Really? Because almost two months ago, during the middle of the day I nudged your arm and you pulled off some kind of karate move and dislocated my shoulder. Was that just a daymare?"

"Ha, ha," she muttered sarcastically. "Listen, it's nothing. I think I better get going though, you've probably got an early morning."

He watched as she collected her clothes from the floor, and as she paused, searching for her pants, he stated, "This is your place."

"Oh," she said softly, and sat on the corner of the bed. She was not looking at him.

"But I can go if you want me too," he suggested and started getting up.

"No, no, no," she cried and practically flung herself at him. "Don't go. It's nothing, I'm just… don't go."

"Why?"

She shrugged and glanced at the floor.

Carlton shook his head to himself. He wanted to ask her so much and he wanted her to answer him, but that would not happen. She always held back about certain details of her life. He just stopped asking.

"I think it's best if I go," he said, and pushed off the covers.

"Stay because I feel safe in your arms," she confessed softly, looking away embarrassed.

He smiled, she finally showed she was vulnerable. Crawling over to her, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her back into the bed.

"All right, I'll stay," he whispered in her ear, pulling her in even closer to his body.

"Thank you," she muttered, sighing.

They just lay there for a little while. Neither one said anything, but neither one fell asleep. After a few minutes Carlton asked, "What was the nightmare about?"

She shook her head and answered quietly, "You don't want to know."

"I asked, didn't I?" he shot back, failing to hold back his anger.

She did not reply for a moment. When she did respond, she had so much pain in her voice he was silent the rest of the night. "Trust me, you really don't want to know."

"Why won't she talk to me?" Carlton asked the next day at lunch.

She smiled, not a nice smile, a nasty smile that made Carlton uneasy. "Because cop, she thinks you don't love her, remember? You're in it for the sex."

"And why does she think that Carla?" he snapped, glaring at her.

"Well, I did put that idea in her head, but it's the truth," she defended.

"It is not the truth."

"Oh no? Could you really love her? All of her, even her past? You know she killed a lot of people? Could you truly love a murderer?"

"She's reformed," he objected, as Carla's words sunk in.

"So? It can't erase the past," she reminded him. "It can't change the fact that people know, it doesn't change what they think of her. And what would they think if they found out you were sleeping with her? You're too concerned about her past and how it affects you, that's why you can't love her."

"Well, I don't love her, so whether I can love her or not doesn't matter," he told Carla, not meeting her eyes.

"Sure, but she knows you can't love her because of her past, that's why she doesn't talk to you about it. That, and you never ask about it," Carla clarified.

Carlton scowled and played with his food, thinking about what she said. He had a lot of questions, questions he should ask Delilah, but instead he was asking her best friend.

"I want to ask, I want to ask about everything, but you should see this look she gives me when either of us even mention her past. She stops smiling, and looks so sad," he confessed. "I hate seeing her like that."

Carla huffed. "Oh please, don't get all lovey dovey on me now. You don't ask because you don't want to know. And she only looks sad because she knows how to play you. She pouts and you drop the subject. It's just a game to her. She doesn't care."

"Is it really?" he asked, frowning even worse then normal.

"I think you know the answer to that," Carla stated evasively. She took the last sip of her drink and asked sweetly, "You're gonna pick up the check, right?"

He watched her as she prepared for her night. She was using heavier then normal makeup, especially around the eyes, dulling the sparkle in her brown eyes. She pursed her lips together and then parted them. Reaching for a coral pink lipstick, Carlton wondered what she was doing. That was not the color for her, it would not flatter her. No, the red suited her the best, it was the attention seeking red that she looked truly stunning in.

"Where you going?" he questioned.

She glanced over, at the sound of his voice. She still thought he was sleeping from their afternoon delight. Smiling, she replied, "Out to dinner."

She was fiddling with her earring, when she answered. That was her tell she was nervous about something. She fiddled with things when she got uncomfortable, which was rare for her.

"Do I have to worry about some guy whisking you away?"

She stopped fidgeting. "No more then I have to worry about your relationship with your partner."

"Excuse me?" He was just gaping at her. What in the world did she mean by that?

"I think you heard me," she stated, walking across the room. She would not look at him anymore.

"You're worried about O'Hara and me?"

"I don't want to get into it right now," she told him curtly.

"Fine, tell me where you're going," he demanded, getting out of bed and following her across the room.

"Out to dinner," she supplied.

"With who?" he barked.

"None of your business," she spat.

"It is my business," he retorted, grabbing her arm.

His hands were so warm, but they still sent a chill down her spine. She wanted to so bad to just give in to his strong hold, to kiss him, hold her body against his, do anything to make him happy, but she just could not. Instead her eyes narrowed and she put on her most convincing angry face. She tried to jerk her arm away, but he held her tighter. Glowering at him, she spat, "Why is it any of your business?"

"Because we're a…" He paused, looking at her face trying to find an answer to the question what were they.

Her face didn't flatter she just continued to glare at her. "We're what? In a relationship?"

"Are we?" he asked quietly, tightening his grip on her arm without realizing it.

She yanked her arm away from his hand successfully. "No, we're not. Nowhere close. A relationship would require emotions and feelings for you. And trust me, I don't have those for you."

He sank back down to the bed, his world suddenly crashing down around him. He looked up at her, total confusion in his eyes. "None? No feelings? But… but you told me you felt safe in my arms, doesn't that count for anything?"

She paused, giving Carlton hope that she did not mean what she was saying. But then she retorted, "You're a cop, you're licensed to shoot at will, of course I would feel safe in your arms."

Her tone broke his heart. Harsh and cold, she meant what she said. He stared down at the floor, in disbelief.

She walked over to the door, completely primed for her night out. She glanced at him one more time, her heart in her throat when she saw what she did to him. Yet she was not finished. Before she left, she told him cruelly, "It's a little pathetic that you thought we were together. Show yourself out when you're done moping."


	7. This Ain't a Love Story

**A/N:** so thanks for all the reviews. I know it kinda came out of nowhere that Delilah/Gypsy broke up with Carlton. This doesn't explain it, but the next chapter will have a small explanation. but here you go, enjoy this chapter because it sets up the rest of the story!

* * *

Gloria woke up on her birthday, and everything that happened the day before flashed through her mind

The soft candlelight flickered, bring Delilah back to the situation at hand. She had been too preoccupied with all that she said, everything she did, to even be aware of the restaurant. Carla eyed her suspiciously as she sat.

"Something on your mind?" she asked, picking up her glass of water. "You don't seem very conscience."

"It's over, between the cop and me," Delilah stated, dead inside. "For real this time."

"Oh that's wonderful!" Carla declared. "Here, let's order champagne."

Delilah glanced up at her friend, so much pain in her eyes, pain she would never express and told Carla, "I don't think I feel up for that. Maybe I should just head home."

"Sure, but does this mean you're back in the game? I mean there's no reason for you to stick around here anymore. He's out of your life now, right? You can come back to work?" Carla questioned, eyes glued on Delilah, waiting for the answer.

Delilah stared back, her face blank. "Um… maybe. I don't really think so. I just need time to sort a couple things out." Delilah leaned in and gave Carla a quick peck on the check. "Good luck, and don't get caught."

Delilah walked out of the restaurant while Carla staring after her, anger, shock and betrayal swirling in her.

The apartment was quiet when she got back. She did not know why it surprised her so much. Any chance he would stick around and fight for her was killed, she made sure of it. Still, a small part of her, the naïve part, had hoped he would have stuck around.

Searching through her iPod, Delilah found the perfect song for the moment, Bon Jovi's "This Ain't a Love Song". It was exactly what she wanted, a sad song to curl up and cry to.

Turning around to her wonderfully soft bed, she was stopped by what she saw. Carlton was standing there, with his shoes on, wearing pants, a belt and his white undershirt. In his hand was his tie and lying on the bed was his jacket, all he needed was his shirt and he was ready to walk out, for good this time. That thought made her stomach flip.

"Don't worry, I'm getting the rest of my things and then I'll be gone," he told her, his voice not hiding his hurt.

"Oh good," she replied softly, sitting on the bed.

She watched him search for his shirt as the song began to play. He paused in his quest and looked at her. "Nice song," he muttered sarcastically.

"My iPod's on random," she defended weakly.

He shook his head, obviously doubting her sincerity. Still, he did not say anything, it was easier to keep silent and listen to the song instead. He could not trust himself to open his mouth, he was afraid he's start to beg her to take him back. Her on the other hand, she would not speak. If she even opened her mouth, she knew she would burst out into tears. It was easier for her to let Bon Jovi talk for her.

They were silent, Carlton still searching for his lost shirt. Delilah knew where it was, tucked between the bed and the nightstand, but she refused to tell Carlton that. Instead she stared at the same spot on the floor, at least until they both heard the lyrics, "_Baby, I thought you and me would stand the test of time, Like we got away with the perfect crime but, We were just a legend in my mind._"

Carlton sighed and sat on the other side of the bed. "'Perfect crime', huh?" he mused.

Her stomach twisted, the last thing she wanted to do was talk about them. Thankfully, she knew what to say to Carlton make him stop talking about their makeshift relationship. "I guess you don't have to worry about work anymore," she told him coldly.

"You think that's all I care about, don't you?" he asked quietly.

She got up, just walking away from him and stated, "It should be." She turned around to finally face him. "Why are you still here?"

He got up and threw on his jacket, disregarding his lost shirt. Angrily, he spat, "Fine, I'll leave. I just thought maybe you would want to apologize since all I have to do is make one phone call and the FBI will bring you back to that detainment center for the rest your life."

She stormed over to him, he had said the wrong thing. She shoved him towards the door and screamed, "Get the hell out."

"Fine, whatever you say, murderer," he hissed and stormed off.

She did not stop him. She shuddered as the door slammed shut. A moment later she was curled up in a ball on the ground, balling her eyes out.

Carlton threw back his eight or ninth scotch, trying to drown his pain. He tried never to drink heavily, but there were certain occasions that just warranted it. This was one. He motion for the barkeep to refill his glass. The bartender gave him a skeptical glance, but Carlton just glared at him, and the bartender filled his glass.

Carlton tossed it back, but leaned a little too far back. He felt a shooting pain in his back as he blinked away the lights on the ceiling. He knew he should have tried to get up, but he did not see the point.

"Lassie, are you okay?" a voice asked, as a head appeared in his line of view.

"Ugh, Spencer… what are you doing here?" he asked, finally getting up.

"Just getting some drinks with some friends," Shawn answered.

Carlton nodded, and stumbled backwards. Shawn caught him and asked, "You okay there big guy?"

Carlton grunted, and grabbed the bar to keep the world from spinning out of control. "Everything was fine when I was sitting," he muttered.

"That happens when you go from sitting to standing because now the alcohol can circulate through your blood easier," Shawn explained.

"I just need to sit," Carlton defended, trying to reach for his tipped over barstool.

"I got it for ya," Shawn told him and propped up the stool. Carlton sat down and motioned for yet another drink. "You sure need another one lightweight?"

"Back off Spencer," Carlton snapped and started searching for the glass of scotch that did not come yet.

"Is something wrong with Lassieface? What's with the heavy drinking? Did Polly Smith deflate?"

Polly Smith? It took Carlton a moment to understand what Shawn was talking about. But it hit him like a bag of bricks. That was a name he gave Shawn and Gus when they were pestering him about his date with Delilah. That was last thing he wanted to think about her right now.

He gripped the glass that the bartender just placed in front of him. He raised it to his lips, wanting to just drown her out of his mind, but he remembered Delilah calling him pathetic. Instead of throwing the scotch back, he threw it across the bar.

Shawn jumped at the sounds of breaking glass and stared at Carlton, shocked. Carlton's eyes were fixed on the dark spot that the glass hit. The liquid was dripping down to the floor faster then he expected.

"So you want to talk about it?" Shawn questioned. "Or do you want to destroy more of the bar?"

Carlton looked at Shawn and motioned for him to lean in closer. Shawn obliged, and Carlton whispered, "Polly Smith, is an unethical, immoral slut. I want nothing more to do with her. She's dead to me. I hope she disappears off the face of the Earth."

"What happened?" Shawn asked, taking advantage of Carlton's inebriated state.

"She was not as dedicated to the relationship as I was, and difference of ethics."

"Oh, that sucks. How long were you two together?" Shawn was going to milk this situation for all that he could.

"Oh we were never together," Carlton corrected. "She made that very clear."

"So it wasn't a together relationship? How long were you and Polly, you know, not together?" Shawn asked, grinning.

"Years… years of being utterly confused by her smile, her amazing smile with those lovely red lips that feels so good and her hair that smells like apples," Carlton confused, closing his eyes, his mind thinking back to Delilah's ruby puckers and apple scented locks. He needed a drink. "Barkeep, another scotch."

The bartender came over, glaring at him. "Listen, the last two drinks I got you you didn't even manage to drink. You've had enough, I'm kicking you out."

"Fine, I'll leave," he stated, getting up and stumbling towards the door. "There are five other bars right down the street I could go to."

Shawn shook his head and walked over to Carlton. "Come on buddy, I'll take you home."

Carlton pulled away from him and grunted, "No. I'm fine."

"You're in no shape to drive, I'll take you home," Shawn insisted.

"Fine," Carlton grumbled and walked out into the parking lot.

Bacon wafted through the air, a good thing for hung over Carlton to wake up to. He smiled, for a split second thinking that last night was all a bad dream, and that Delilah was in the kitchen cooking him breakfast. He lifted up his head, listening. There was nothing. No singing, and Delilah always sang when she made breakfast, that's how Carlton knew his nightmare was real.

He walked into the kitchen and saw eggs and bacon laid put on a plate. He smiled to himself and sang softly, "Do you believe in magic? In a young girl's heart."

That was always the song she sang when making egg. "Build Me Up Buttercup" was the song when she made pancakes.

"Good morning Sunshine," Shawn greeted chirpy. "How you feeling? Hung over?"

"What are you still doing here Spencer?" Carlton asked, sitting at the table.

"Well, I didn't feel right leaving you alone, and you begged me to stay and cuddle. I just couldn't say no," Shawn told him, laughing as he saw Carlton choke on his eggs.

"I did not!" he roared.

"No, you didn't, but you should have seen your face," Shawn explained.

"So, why are you still here?"

"You know last night you didn't have a shirt on, right? Just the undershirt. It was more then you I ever wanted to see."

"Spencer…" Carlton warned.

"I didn't think you should have been alone," Shawn confessed.

"Why?"

"Dude, you had me stalk a girl for you," Shawn reminded him. "When I asked where you live, you told me Polly's address and we ended up just sitting outside her apartment for almost half an hour. I mean other then it's totally creepy, it was nice. We got to talking, had a little man bonding."

"Oh god, did we see her?" Carlton asked, concerned that Shawn knew Polly's true identity.

"No, I finally convinced you to let me bring you home before anybody called the cops," Shawn answered. "I'd thought it be a little embarrassing for you to be picked up."

Carlton nodded, and looked down at his breakfast. Shawn watched him, wondering what the older man was thinking. "I would have sang for you, but you didn't tell me what song."

Carlton dropped his fork and glared at Shawn. "What?"

"You told me she always sang, not very well, when she made breakfast. I would have sung for you, but I didn't know what music you like."

Carlton got up, suddenly angry, but was trying his best to control it. "Listen Spencer, I appreciate the ride and making sure I didn't die, but the last thing I want is for you to even mention that godforsaken woman. Got it?"

Shawn nodded. He knew not to cross certain lines. "All right, well I have to get to work, so you-"

"Oh, oh, can I go with you? I'm getting a psychic vibe saying the Chief wants me for something important."

"No, but if the chief really wants you, why don't you just leave now?"

"I drove you home in your car, do you really think I would have put you on a bike? So I need a ride, and since you're going there anyways…"

"Fine, give me ten minutes," Carlton told him as he tossed his plate in the sink.

Shawn nodded, grinning.

It was an awkward silence during the ride to the police station. As soon as they were parked, Shawn bounced up the stairs inside. Carlton was happy to see him go.

"Mr. Spencer, it's about time you got here," Karen scolded. "I called you over half an hour ago."

"So sorry Chief, I was having trouble with my ride," Shawn explained, grinning.

"All right, get in my office. Detective Lassiter, this involves you too," Karen stated and led them towards her office.

"Psychic vibe, huh?" Carlton whispered.

Shawn shrugged and replied, "Sometimes they come in phone calls."

"So Mr. Spencer, you're probably wondering why I called you in when there are no current cases that needs psychic help," Karen began.

"No, I assume this has something to do with charging the department for twenty three pineapple pizzas," Shawn told her.

"That was you?" Karen asked, her eyes narrowing.

"All right, so obviously that wasn't the reason. What is it?" Shawn asked quickly.

Still angry, Karen answered, "We have reason to suspect that Charles Barlwin's life might be endangered. You know who he is, right?"

"A wanna be Baldwin?" Shawn took a shot in the dark.

"He's a multimillionaire," Carlton corrected. "Owner of the Nikclari Company, it produces half of the technical information used by the military."

"All right, so his life might be endangered, do you want me to get a psychic read to see who might want to kill him?" Shawn suggested.

"Not quite," Karen replied. "We want you to trail him, observe him, and see if there is anyone around him who would want to kill him."

"Great! Gus and I will get right on it."

"Mr. Burton will not be working with you," Karen stated. "You need the experience of a professional. You have the choice of working with-"

"Please say Columbo," Shawn said, with his eyes closed and fingered crossed.

"Working with Detective Lassiter," both of the two men's faces dropped, "or…"

"Chief, please, please don't stick me with him. What about O'Hara?" Carlton begged.

"Or, Mr. Spencer, you could work with someone else, who's not technically part of the department," Karen offered.

"Who?" Shawn and Carlton asked simultaneously.

"Me, sweetheart," Delilah replied from the doorway.

Shawn quickly glanced at her and then with a big grin told the chief, "I'll take her!"


	8. Kidnapped By Love

**A/N:** so thanks everyone for the review. This chapter is longer then most, but I really loved writing it! oh, and in the end it might seem like Shawn is slightly out of character... but i needed that to happen for the story's sake.

* * *

Carlton watched as Delilah and Shawn talked and laughed across the room. He couldn't take his eyes off them. This was bad. He could not keep it professional around her. He just clamed up when she walked into the office and now he couldn't even keep his mind focused enough on his work to write his name.

Shawn came over, grinning like a complete idiot who just met his idol. "Lassie, I was really looking forward to working with you, but you know, hoes before bros."

"It's the other way around," Carlton muttered angrily.

"Oh Lassie, I didn't realize that you really wanted to work with me so bad," Shawn stated, smiling. "Don't worry, next case I'll be glued to your hip."

"No, don't do that," Carlton told him sternly. "I just want you to know to be careful, when you work with her. She'll stab you in the back."

"Oh really?" Shawn questioned skeptically. "How do you know?"

"She cost me my job," Carlton told him bitterly.

Shawn raised an eyebrow and made a circle with his fingers. "Aren't you doing your job right now?"

"Because of her I can't move up in my career. I'm going to be stuck in this position for the rest of my life," Carlton explained. "I was supposed to be the next Chief, but because of _her_ they passed me up."

Shawn grabbed a chair and pulled it up to Carlton's desk. "This sounds juicy. Details, now Carly-town."

"Three and a half years ago, I followed a lead of a double homicide to this shack right out of town. I get there without backup, and since I'm afraid they're going to run, I go into the shack before the backup arrives," Carlton began.

"Oh, even I know that's stupid," Shawn commented.

"Anyways, I go in, and hear arguing upstairs, so I grab my gun and follow the voices. I get up there, but the last stair squeaks. I hear one set of footsteps running away and another coming towards me. Next thing I know, I see Gypsy coming towards me, her gun also out. We're just staring at each other, wondering who's going to pull the trigger first.

"Finally she asks if this could just be a draw, we both back away and let each other go. I tell her no, and she threatens that her partner is coming around back. I tell her my partner's around back, probably apprehending her partner. She begins talking to me about how the probably couldn't happen since her partner is a big strong guy. All the while she slowly walking towards me, and I'm too distracted by her lip-words to notice. Suddenly she's close enough to grab my wrist and force me to drop my gun. Then she says, 'If your partner's really with you, I hope she can catch you.'"

"What the hell does that mean?" Shawn asked, completely intrigued by the tale, even though he was unaware Carlton was leaving out major details of what actually happened.

"It means, I'm gonna headbutt you and make you fall. That's what it means," Carlton snapped. "She knocked me unconscious, and I feel down the stairs. I woke up a day and a half later handcuffed to some pole on the other side of town. When my backup finally arrived at the house we were already gone. The only evidence that I was there was my gun they found on the top of the steps.

"When I was rescued they kept asking me questions about what happened. I couldn't answer any of them because I was unconscious, but my boss kept thinking I was lying or covering for her. He told me that if I didn't cooperate, he would charge me with insubordination. I couldn't answer his questions, so I got charged. You can't be Police Chief with an insubordination charge, even if you get cleared of it."

"Aw, Lassie, I finally get why you're so upset all the time. This explains so much of your psyche. This is such amazing insight," Shawn said, smiling.

"You know what, fine," Carlton snapped, doubting Shawn's sincerity. "I tried to be nice and warn you about her, but if all you're going to do is be a child and make fun, you deserve whatever will happen to you."

"Aw, Lassie come on. I'm sorry, okay? Please tell me some more stories about Gypsy. If I'm going to work with her I should know more about her. Tell me what she likes, doesn't like, turns on, turns off. What, chocolate covered strawberries? Long walks on the beach?"

Carlton got up and stormed away at this point. Shawn called after him, "Come on, help a guy out. Remember bros before hoes!"

Juliet quickly scanned the outdoor patio and found her lunch date. It had been a month since they decided to make these luncheons a regular thing. Juliet was really staring to enjoy herself during them. They laughed, they joked, Juliet shared stories about her family and times in Miami, and Delilah didn't talk about her past at all, but she sure was a good listener.

"Hey, what did the chief want you for?" Juliet asked, sitting down across from Delilah.

"Oh she wants me to work with the psychic on stalking some rich dude," Delilah informed her.

Juliet gulped her drink. "You're working with Shawn?"

"Oh, so he's the boy," Delilah teased, figuring out Juliet's crush.

"No," Juliet denied poorly. "Anyways, I don't want to talk about it. How are things with you and Carlton?"

Delilah sighed and hung her head. Juliet felt extremely uncomfortable and squirmed in her seat. Delilah looked up at her and said, "I've given up a lot of things in my life. I gave up my family, my friends, my future, the life I knew all for my job. I was supposed to go to college and become a CEO of something, but I gave it up to be a professional criminal. I haven't seen my mother in three years. But I was fine with everything. I loved my job. I got to travel to places and experience things most people can't even dream about. Then I met Carlton, and I gave up everything, again. My whole new life was gone. I gave up my friend, my career, which I was damn good at, everything I knew, just gone for some guy."

"Are you saying you regret it?" Juliet asked.

Delilah shook her head. "No, I just always thought when I got out of the game I'd go back to my old life, but I didn't. I went to Carlton's life. I gave up so much for him and he gave up so little. And now, I gave up him. For some reason I don't know. No, I do know why. He was getting attached, and sloppy. So I gave him up for him."

"That doesn't really make sense," Juliet told her.

"All right, how about this? I gave him up because he never fought for me. Never," Delilah replied. "A few months after I kidnapped him he told me it was over, for real. And I thought I'd be okay with it, but after one week I missed him too much. So, three weeks later, I'm out of the game, turning myself in so I could be with him. But, I find out he's screwing his partner."

"Oh god, he didn't… wait, you kidnapped him?" Juliet asked, her empathy turning to shock.

"Yeah, ask Karen about it," Delilah stated, looking down at her hands. "But the thing is he didn't fight for me, not even after I turned myself in. Sometimes I think the only reason we got back together is because his partner got transferred."

Delilah had not looked up when she told Juliet that. Juliet got up and walked over to Delilah. She wrapped her arms the sad creature and just held on.

Delilah flinched at the contact, but the next moment she was grabbing the arm, hugging her back. Delilah held on for a little bit, and then let her go with a "Thank you."

Juliet sat back down, and Delilah sent her a smile. Juliet returned the smile and asked, "Anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah, get a drink with me tonight," Delilah requested. "We'll replace the old memories with new, drunken ones."

"Um… yeah, why not? It should be fun."

"Great, now I better get going, I'm supposed meet up with Shawn…" Delilah paused, an idea forming. "Let's invite Shawn and his little scaredy cat partner to drinks. It will be as friends, but then I'll distract the other one and you and Shawn can do whatever."

Juliet grinned at the idea. "Sure, if it means that much to you."

"All right then, I'll see you tonight."

Delilah glanced over at Shawn, and he looked bored out of his mind. She felt for him, normally she would have started a conversation, but today she was too busy not to let her emotions show to be chatty. She turned her attention back to the office across the street. Looking through a high power camera, she observed Charles Barlwin in his office. He appeared not to be in any harm.

They were set up in an empty office room in the build across from Barlwin, a couple floors up then his office, Delilah insisted on it. She said it gave them the advantage to see not only into his office, but other's too. Shawn objected, saying he was best when he had more hands on readings, but since Delilah was the professional she won. That and she also informed him she knew three different ways to kill someone using just one hand.

Looking back at Shawn she asked, "Are you getting any negative vibes?"

"No, too far away," he told her, sighing. He paused and then asked, "Were you being serious? Do you believe in psychics?"

"Yeah, I mean look at my name," Delilah told him.

"Gypsy?"

"The gypsies deal with spirits, fortune telling and tarot cards, psychics aren't to far fetch if you believe that cards can tell your future."

"I guess not," Shawn mused. "Can you tell me more about tarot cards?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Is there one card for each person? Like do you have a personal card?" Shawn questioned.

Delilah smiled, this was a topic she enjoyed talking about. "There are cards that can best describe you, or what's going on with you. Take Juliet for example, her card would be The Sun. It means something along the lines of joy, good health, academic success, and abundance of energy."

Shawn grinned thinking about it. "Yeah, that fits Jules. What other cards are there? What would be mine?"

"You… I have to think about you. Are you The Hierophant? No, I don't see ritual and routines your thing. The Hermit? Definitely not. The Chariot? Nope. The Hanged Man? Maybe, I could see you willing to do anything now to get something you want. Let me ask you this, how good are you with changes? Can you adapt to it?"

"I'm pretty good with change, I moved around a lot, been all over the country."

"So you've had a lot of new beginnings, huh?"

"I guess you could say that," Shawn agreed.

"See now I'm torn, you could be The Hanged Man, but now I also see you as The Fool."

"That sounds like something Lassiter would call me," Shawn joked.

"The Fool doesn't mean anything bad unless it's flipped upside down. Right side up it means good things like, beginnings, energy, happiness, optimism, spontaneity and exceeding the status quo. I think it fits you," Delilah told him seriously.

"It was just a joke," Shawn replied, wondering why she turned so serious. "Hey, what do you think old Lassie would be? Hermit, right?"

Delilah turned away from Shawn as the image of her lying in Carlton's arms, wearing one of his shirts, holding a deck of tarot cards flashed through her mind. She did not want to remember that night, no matter how wonderful it felt having his arms around her. That night she told Carlton what his card was, along with what her card was, something she had never told anyone. It was the closest she came to telling him she loved him. The words were on her lips, but instead she kissed him and that was that.

Her back still to Shawn, she answered, "Hermit's a good guess."

"Yeah, he never goes out," Shawn stated, trying to keep the conversation alive.

"Speaking of going out, how's about you and your easily frightened partner, come out for drinks with me and a friend?" she asked.

"Sure, I'd love to get a couple drinks in you and see if I could get you to dance on a table," he told her with his best grin.

She sent him her best grin back; it was a clash of pearly whites, until there was a thud outside in the hallway. Both eyes flew to the door. "Should we check that out?"

Delilah shook her head. "No, you go over to the window and check on our assignment, I'll go scope it out."

Shawn obliged and went over to the window, but watched Delilah out of the corner of his eye. Silently she walked over to the door, and let the door slowly open. Peering out into the corridor, she made her way carefully out, taking in all of her surroundings. It was then it fully hit Shawn who she was, an ex-professional murder. The gracefulness of her body, the precision of her movements, all signs that she had done this before and that she was good. He suddenly became afraid.

She came back a couple minutes later, and she was frowning. Shawn looked back at Barlwin and asked, "Anything?"

"No, I checked the hall and all the open doors," she answered. "There was this one locked door though, the carpet in front of it made it look like the door had been open recently. Do you have anything that I could pick a lock with? I want to investigate the room."

Shawn shook his head and went back to the window. Without meeting her eyes, he squeaked out a, "How many people did you kill?"

"You really want to know?" He nodded, stealing a quick glance at her. "Over a hundred, close to one fifty."

Shawn fumbled the camera, but managed to catch it. Delilah smiled to herself at the reaction. "You still wanna go out, or you afraid you're gonna be a hundred and fifty?"

"No, no, who's afraid? I'm not," Shawn told her quickly, but his gaze went quickly back to the window.

"I'm going to check-" She stopped short, and Shawn looked up enough to see her fall to the ground. He dropped the camera when he saw the man standing over her. Extremely tall, he loomed over Delilah like a boulder teetering on the edge of a cliff. Shawn was the size of one of the ominous looking man's arm.

Shawn backed further into the corner, trying to get as far away as he could from this dangerous man, who seemed not to notice him yet. No, this man was far too interested in playing with his already captured prey. He picked up an arm and watched as it fell limply to the ground. He let out a satisfied grunt, and then turned his attention to Shawn.

"Who are you?" the man questioned, reaching behind his back for what Shawn could only assume was a gun or knife.

"Would you believe bird watcher?" Shawn squeaked weakly.

The man grinned sickly and grabbed Shawn's neck, pinned him against the wall. Shawn was only mildly surprised that this man was able to does this all with one hand. "You know what my favorite way of killing people is?"

"Not killing people?" Shawn hoped.

"See I do enjoy killing with my bare hands, it feels so primitive and I feel accomplished," the man informed him. "But it's such a stress on me, and some times it takes so long depending on how I'm killing them. No, my favorite way is with a knife."

Shawn now saw the gleam of a four-inch knife in his face. He started to shake, he was going to die.

"The best thing about killing with a knife is when you stab someone in the ribcage. You can make their bones crunch by just moving the knife up or down. And they just gasp, that's all they can do. Gasp for their escaping breath. I'm wondering if you're a gasper?"

"Funny, isn't that what your cellmate asked you Lloyd during your first night?" Delilah asked, getting the large man's attention.

With his focus off of Shawn and knife, Delilah kicked his wrist with knife, sending it flying across the room. Lloyd growled and tossed Shawn away like a used Kleenex.

He came towards her, but she was ready this time, she was not going to be suckered punched again. Hell, she knew she could not win in a fight, but she knew she could out run him. First though, she needed to give Shawn one hell of a head start.

"Come Lloyd, let's see if prison made you soft," Delilah challenged.

"You should know I don't go soft," Lloyd told her, grinning at her. "In fact, last time we did this didn't you end up with your pants off, screaming and kick?"

Delilah kicked him in the stomach, and followed it up wit a one two punch. It hardly did anything to him. He backed up a few steps, but he was still grinning.

"Shawn, get the knife and run! Keep running, no matter what!" she ordered.

Her yelling snapped Shawn out of his shock. He grabbed the knife laying a few feet away from him and sprang up, sprinting towards the door. He was halfway down the hallway when a painful scream, that he just knew Lloyd would never produce. Shawn stopped, almost tempted to go back and help her, but a loud thud got his feet running the other way.


	9. Love's Just a Phone Call Away

Gloria woke up on her birthday, and everything that happened the day before flashed through her mind

As soon as Shawn was out of the building, around other people, he started searching for his cell phone. "Come on, come on, where is it?"

He frantically searched all his pockets, only to come to the conclusion that he lost it. Running across the street, he found a payphone and dialed 911.

With in minutes Carlton, Juliet, and Karen pulled up with half the police force, surrounding the building. Carlton stormed up to Shawn, screaming, "Spencer, what the hell happened? Where is she?"

"This guy Lloyd attacked us," Shawn explained. "Gypsy started fighting with him, and told me to run. I did and then called you guys."

"Did she seem like she was winning? Did she come out yet? Are they still up there? Was she hurt?" Carlton was just shooting questions at Shawn.

"Um… I haven't seen them come out the front," Shawn told them. He pulled out the knife from his pocket and held it out for Carlton. "And I know he had at least one knife on him."

Carlton took the knife, all his worst fears running across his mind. "All right, we need to get a team up there now. O'Hara, McNab, come with me, Chief, you, Johnson, Smith and McDubrin take the front entrance, the rest of you go around back. Block all the exits; make sure no one gets out. Those with me, we're going inside."

Carlton took a moment to brace himself before he kicked in the door. He was fully expecting to find Delilah's dead body in there. Barging into the room, part of him was filled with relief. The room was empty, no dead body. There was blood though, a small spot on the beige carpet just drawing all of Carlton's attention. He was thankful though it was too small of an amount to be anything serious.

"They're not here," he said into his walkie-talkie. "We're going to stay in the building and search, keep watching."

"Whoa, is that blood?" Shawn asked, coming in from the corridor.

"Spencer, I thought I told you stay outside!" Carlton snapped. "Why can't you ever lis-"

His phone rang, interrupting his train of thought. The situation was starting to wear him thin. Dealing between his ex-lover being kidnapped and injured, Spencer being Spencer, all while trying to pretend as though he has no feelings for Delilah, the last thing he needed was someone, probably his mother, calling him.

"Who the hell is this?" he groaned, glancing at a number he did not recognize.

Shawn glanced at the phone, just being his normally nosey self, when he recognized the digits. "Hey, that's my number!"

"Spencer, why do you have my number?"

"Lassie, I don't have my cell phone on me! I dropped it in this room. I'm not the one calling you," Shawn explained. "Pick up the phone."

Carlton flicked his phone open and greeted, "Detective Lassiter."

"Good, you are part of the police department," a deep manly voice replied. "This number is under 'Lassie', I was afraid this would be another ex-girlfriend."

"What do you want?" Carlton asked sternly.

"I already have a lot of things I want. A little Gypsy being one of them," the voice told him, his evil grin heard over the phone.

"There's got to be more though, or you wouldn't have called. What else do you want?"

"I'm still deciding that. I'd just thought you might want to know we're not in the building anymore."

"How do I know you aren't lying?"

"Just listen to the background. Hear the cars driving by? If you listen real close you can even hear the ocean. Still think we're in the building?"

Carlton listened, and heard the cars. "All right, let me speak to Gypsy to make sure she's okay."

"You know what, a picture is worth a thousand words. I'll send you a picture after I make her pretty for you," Lloyd stated. "Don't worry though, I'll call you later when I figure out what I want, and what you can do to get what you want back. Bye for now."

"No! You let me speak to her now!" Carlton roared, but Lloyd had already hung up.

Carlton stared at his phone's screen with the blinking number indicating the call had ended. He dropped down to the floor, his legs finally giving out. He wrapped his arms around his head, wishing the world would stop for one moment so he could just figure out a way to bring her back to him.

"Carlton?" Juliet asked gingerly.

He lifted up his head. "McNab go down and tell the chief that the suspect isn't here, and she should send a patrol over to 23 Willow Flower Lane, it was previous hideout of the suspect. And she should also send out a group to check out sleazy motels, basically any place that IDs aren't required, or really checked up on."

The two police officers nodded and were quick to follow the order. As they reached the door, Carlton added, "And tell the Chief that O'Hara and I will investigating the victim's apartment incase there's any chance they go to hideout there or any other leads."

They left, leaving the three in an awkward silence. Finally, Carlton got up and started towards the door. Juliet and Shawn stared after him, not moving. He turned around and asked, "You coming?"

They sat in silence on the ride to Delilah's apartment. Juliet keep shooting secret glances at her partner, trying to gauge his reaction to the situation. He was being alarmingly calm.

Arriving at Delilah's apartment building, Shawn instantly recognized it. As soon as Juliet was out of the car, Shawn hit Carlton in the arm and exclaimed, "Polly Smith?! Polly Smith! There better be a Polly Smith who lives here also."

Carlton got out of the car, ignoring the shocked psychic and headed up to Delilah's apartment without a word.

It looked exactly the same. Nothing had changed since he stormed out previously. The bedroom looked like it always did. He could almost see her, smiling at him, wearing one of his button down shirts, laying on the bed with him, their legs entangled, explaining her tarot cards just like they once had.

"So which one do you think is mine?" she questioned, fanning the cards. She had this cocky little grin, doubting he would be able to chose correctly.

He looked between the cards, and his eyes fell on one. A woman in blue robes, with a crescent moon at her feet, and this small knowing smile, he plucked that card and showed it to her. With an even bigger cocky grin he read, "The High Priestess."

"How'd you..." she questioned, impressed he figured it out.

"It looks like she has secrets, and I know you have secrets," he explained, giving her a quick kiss on the nose. "So which card would I be, Brainiac? No, Justice, right?"

She shook her head. "No, you're The Emperor. You're a powerful individual, with self-control, and worldly power who can handle responsibility. You're very strong. You're my Emperor."

He never put much faith in those cards, but she lived her life by them, so he would at least pretend to believe in them around her.

"And you're my High Priestess," he replied and pulled her closer to him, their lips meeting.

"Carlton? Are you okay?" Juliet asked, pulling him out of his flashback.

He realized he had stopped in front of them bedroom door. Shaking his head, he answered, "No. I expect her to be there, smiling at me, telling me everything is going to be okay. And she's not going to be there."

Juliet grasped his shoulder, probably the only thing she could have done to make him feel better.

After few moments, he finally managed to open the door. He saw the bedroom, but at the same time he didn't see it. His eyes went straight to the bed, his legs soon followed suit. He picked up the object on the bed, it was his shirt from last night, the missing one. He wondered what it was doing on the bed, but then all the images of her wearing his shirts popped back into his head. His shirts often ended up being her nightgowns.

He sat on the bed for a while, just holding his shirt, unaware that Juliet and Shawn entered the room. The two looked at each other, pity evident on their faces. They both knew why Carlton was reacting so strongly to Delilah's kidnapping, but would not comfort him in front of each other. Shawn instead glanced around, trying to get a feel for Delilah's room. The closet door was open, shoes and random boxes were scattered near it, like someone had been search through the closet for something. There was even an empty space in the closet.

Shawn continued to snoop around the room, walking over to her dresser, observing that the drawers were not shut all the way. Juliet just stood there awkwardly, trying to think of something useful to say. Finally she blurted out, "Why is Shawn here?"

"Jules!" Shawn cried, genuinely hurt.

Juliet started to apologize, but Carlton's answer cut her off. "Delilah believed in psychics, and tarot cards, so I was hoping he could figure out where she is and if she was okay."

There was an urgency in Carlton's voice that made Shawn, for the first time, feel uneasy about faking a vision. Shawn had no clue to where she could have been or how bad she was, he had also seen the blood spot. Yet, Shawn could not tell Carlton this, he was afraid Carlton was fall apart.

Closing his eyes, Shawn walked towards the closet, stating, "The spirits are pulling me towards this direction. Question, was this mess here last night?"

Carlton shook his head. Shawn nodded, and concluded, tearing his fingers away from his temple dramatically, "They were here. He made her look for something, I'm not sure what, but something important that she hide in her closet."

Carlton nodded, and glanced back the floor, thinking. Shawn took this moment to signal Juliet to follow him out of the bedroom. Once they had shut the door, Shawn turned to her and questioned, "Who the hell is Delilah?"

"Gypsy, it's her real name," Juliet answered.

"Oh, so then you know about them, being…" Shawn slid his fingers to interlock with each other and then pulled them apart. He repeated the action until Juliet stopped him.

"Yes, wait, how do you?" Juliet asked.

"Psychic," Shawn replied.

Juliet was going to press the issue when Carlton stumbled out of the bedroom. He handed her the phone and said, with no emotion in his voice, "We need to get back to the station."

Juliet glanced at her partner with concern, and then her eyes flashed over to the phone's screen. She only saw the image for a second before the screen went black, but it was enough to shake her. Shawn took the phone from her hands, and pressed a button to bring the image back to the screen. He wished he hadn't.

It was Delilah, beaten, with a forming black eye, fat lip and cuts along her forehead from where he must have smashed her face into the ground. She was lying on the ground, either unconscious or dead.

Shawn glanced at Juliet nervously, and they were both too preoccupied to notice Carlton slip something into his pocket.

As soon as the chief was filled in, she demanded to speak to Carlton alone. He was not even aware that anyone had left the office, till the chief yelled, "Detective Lassiter!"

Carlton sat up and finally looked at his boss for the first time. Karen sent him a worried glance and stated, "I know you and Gypsy had a history together, so I would completely understand if you aren't up to working this case."

Carlton shook his head. "No, the bastard is calling my cell. I'm seeing this through."

"All right, but I need to know, don't lie to me," Karen said. "Is there anything other then a _profession_ relationship between you and Gypsy?"

Carlton shook his head, and headed out of the office not seeing Karen's glare. He sat at his desk, trying to make the world stop, but he could not. He couldn't tell the chief truthfully what she wanted to hear. He couldn't stop the stares from everyone, waiting for his next moves. He couldn't stop his mind from going back to the image of her hurt. He couldn't say he was sorry for their fight, he couldn't take back calling her a murderer. There was so much he couldn't do, and the only thing he could was wait for a call.

Juliet came over to his desk, holding a coffee cup. She placed it on his desk, but he shook his head. She nudged it towards him and insisted, "Try it, extra cream."

He was too tired to fight, he body was aching and he just wanted to collapse and sleep. The last thing he wanted was Juliet pestering him, so he took the coffee and had a big sip to make her happy. He stopped and stared at her, it is Delilah's drink.

Juliet smiled to herself at his reaction. "I'd thought you'd could use some coffee," she explained.

Carlton was seriously considering hugging her if his phone had not rung. It was a video message from the kidnapper psycho. His face scrunched in distaste, but he pressed play.

The video was of a very still Delilah, not moving on the ground. Lloyd's voice was heard taunting, "By now you've probably had enough time to squirm and wonder whether or not she's alive. Don't worry, she is, let me prove it to you."

A foot was seen, kicking Delilah in the gut. A groan escaped her lips and she curled up, trying to protect herself from future kicks. Carlton started to shake.

"Now that you know she's alive, I want you, Detective Carlton Lassiter, to come with your boss at ten thirty AM to the corner of Seashell Boulevard and Degradi Lane. Once you get there, I'll tell you where to go. I want just you two and I want you to come in a truthful mood. Don't try anything because I have no problem killing. Gypsy knows. I won't contact you until then, so go get some sleep. See ya then."

The video ended with Delilah staring at the phone, with an almost pleading look. Pleading him not to go, to just leave her. Yet he ignored her silent pleas, too focused on his thoughts of what he would do to Lloyd if he ever got the chance. Carlton would make his pay for every hit he inflicted on Delilah, especially that kick.

"What do we do?" Juliet asked, after a few moments of silence. If this had been a normal kidnapping she would know what to do. If Lloyd had given any demands or ransom she would know what to do. But he had not, they were all in uncharted territory.

"We tell the Chief, and show up tomorrow at ten thirty. Nothing else we can do O'Hara," Carlton informed her.

Juliet nodded and Carlton got, putting on his jacket. He noticed her staring at him, and snapped, "Well, get going O'Hara."

She did not move. "Where are you going?"

"Home, to get some sleep. I don't see any reason to stick around," he explained and started to walk towards the door.

"What about Gypsy?" Juliet cried after him.

"She's a big girl, she can handle herself," he replied, not even looking back at her.

Juliet ran after him, stopping him. She glared at him angrily and whispered, "You're not even fighting for her."

Carlton looked at his partner, and wondered how she could still have all her innocence. She was staring at him, upset and angry, like someone had just told her the truth about Santa Claus and she refused to believe it. She still believed in happy endings. Carlton grasped her shoulder, hoping she would understand, and told her, "I am."

Juliet was left staring after him, a small smile creeping on her face.

Carlton glanced around, the payphone stuck to his ear. He felt extremely uneasy about this situation, but it was the only way he would get an upper hand.

"Hi, it's the Cop. Listen, I need your help," Carlton said into the phone, as soon as the person picked up. He glanced down to look at what was in his hand. They were tarot cards from Delilah's apartment. The Devil and Strength, but Strength was upside down. She had left them flipped up for him to find. "What can you tell me about Gypsy's Devil?"


	10. It's Game Time

A/N: sorry for such a long delay in updating... it's just this story kind caught up to where I had stopped writing it and finals are coming up on me so I've been extremely busy and the fact that. so sorry again... and this chapter is a little shorter then the last. oops!

* * *

Carlton had a small huddle of officers around him, at eight in the morning. He cleared his throat, and signaled everyone to move in closer. It was these people Carlton needed to trust, not to screw up and get Delilah killed. Honestly, he did not trust any of them to be this smooth. Still, they were the only people he had.

"All right, so this is how we're going to run this," Carlton stated. "The corner of Seashell Boulevard and Degradi Lane has about three different restaurants on it, and four different cafes. We're thinking that the confrontation is going to be in one of those. So, we're going to have two cops in each, and four outside incase he brings us to a different location. The cops inside the restaurants will be sitting together, and this most important, they have to look like a couple. If he does lead us into a restaurant, I want the rest of you to come in, in groups of twos, threes and fours, at time intervals of three or seven minutes. Got it?"

Most of the officers nodded and were ready to scramble, there was something about Carlton's tone that made them all feel on edge. However, Buzz needed to ask his question. "Isn't it protocol, when undercover to be separated and at opposite ends so you can get a better range of view?"

Most of the cops there had been thinking it, but they had been smart enough to keep their mouth shuts. As soon as Buzz asked it, they all held back a groan.

"McNab, you would be right if this was a normal kidnapping. Does this look like a normal kidnapping?" Carlton spat.

Buzz shook his head. Carlton seemed to accept this answer. "Then we're doing it my way. Now get going."

As the officers scattered, Carlton sat down, rubbing his forehead. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Karen observed Carlton very carefully as they waited for the phone call. His exterior was very calm and collected, but she knew there was something disturbing him. His give away was he constantly checked the time on his clock.

"Looking at the clock won't make the time go by faster," she told him.

He snapped the phone shut guiltily, and mumbled, "I know."

"Nervous?" she questioned.

He shrugged, and stated nonchalant, "It's just another negotiation."

"For the woman who cost you your career," she reminded him. "I don't know if I should be worried you won't do enough to get her back or you'll do too much."

"I can assure you Chief, I will be strictly professional," he promised.

She rolled her eyes, but the phone rang. Carlton picked it up before the second ring. "We're here, now what?"

"Whoa, calm down Detective," Lloyd taunted. "Did someone have a little too much coffee? Why don't you sit down and relax for a little bit?"

"Where do you recommend sitting down?" Carlton asked, grimacing at having to play his little game.

"Oh see that little restaurant, Luna Shell, go in and grab a nice burger," he told him and then hung up.

Carlton shook his head and turned to Karen. "Luna Shell."

* * *

"Gypsy, that couple over there, you think they're gay?" Lloyd asked, pointing to a couple of men sitting a few table away from them. He was feeling at ease with the situation and was finding pleasure in his personal game "outing the gays".

"What does it matter?" she asked, sighing. She found it very exhausting having to sit perfectly straight in her sear after a night of beatings, the last thing she wanted to do was play a game about other people's sexual preferences. "They're gay, they're not gay, as long as they aren't sucking face in public, why should it bother you?"

"It's just getting harder to tell who's gay and who's not," he explained, his face scrunching in thought.

Delilah glanced at the couple. She stopped breathing for a second. She recognized one of the men from the station. He was taller then his lunch date, with black hair and a goofy expression on his face. She looked at Lloyd and nodded. "Yeah, they're definitely gay."

Lloyd grinned in satisfaction when he thought his suspicions were confirmed, but it grew wider when he saw who just walked in. "That's the cop, isn't it? Remember, hands on the table," he told her, nudging her in her bruised side rather hard with a gun.

Carlton spotted them immediately, Delilah staring off to space with her hands placed firmly on the table and the man he knew was Lloyd. He was big, much bigger then Carlton expected. Yet, Carlton still did not hesitate in his stride to the table.

"Detective," Lloyd greeted with a nasty grin.

"Lloyd," Carlton replied, glaring at him.

"And you must be his boss," Lloyd observed, looking over Karen.

"Chief Vick," she informed coldly.

"Chief Vick then, please sit down," he told her kindly.

"Nice shiner you got going, Gypsy," Karen stated, as she sat.

Delilah rolled her eyes. "Nice of you to come Vick. I thought for sure you would leave me for the big bad wolf."

"So what's the point of this little sit down?" Carlton asked. "What do you want?"

"I don't want to go back to jail," Lloyd answered.

"We can't just let you walk out of here, we have to arrest you," Karen told him.

"Who says I even planned on walking out of here?" he asked, grinning evilly at them.

Karen and Carlton shared a nervous look. Delilah, huffed, feeling very irritated at having a gun pointed at her and being trapped in this psycho's game. Shaking her head she said, "He's not going to kill himself, he doesn't have the balls. He expects you to do the dirty work for him. Take for example those two undercovers that just walked in."

Everyone looked over to the door and sure enough, there were two cops that just entered. Karen groaned and brought her hand up to her eyes. Carlton hit the table and snapped, "Damn it, do you want us to help you or not?"

Delilah held her tongue and glanced away from his angry glare. Lloyd stared straight at him, and commanded, "Get rid of them Detective. And make sure they don't come back."

Grumbling to himself, Carlton got up and walked over to his cops. Karen shook her head and scolded, "Great job, Gypsy, why don't you just draw a target on your head so he has something to aim for when he kills you?"

"I would if I think it would make him do it sooner," Delilah retorted. "What you don't seem to understand is he is going to kill me no matter what. This is just to mess with me. You shouldn't even bothered coming."

Karen did not react right away. Her mind was trying to comprehend the situation. Delilah was given a glimmer of hope and escape, only to be killed. It was as if he was just parading his prize kill. Karen glanced at him, and could tell it was all true. Lloyd just grinned nastily and stroked Delilah's face. "Don't be giving away my twist ending, now. Let's not spoil it for Detective Lassiter."

Karen felt her stomach twist in a knot. If her suspicions about Carlton and Delilah were right, this would end very badly and might push Carlton too far.

"They're gone," Carlton stated sitting back down.

"For good?"

"Yes."

"Good then we can chat," Lloyd replied.

"Chat about what?" Karen asked.

"About this and that." He turned to Carlton, with a nasty grin. "Let's get to know each other. Detective Lassiter, you first."

"Why don't you just tell us what you want to know?" Carlton snapped, glaring at him.

"Fine, are you married Lassiter? Divorced, separated, permanent bachelor?" Lloyd questioned, grinning evilly.

"Married," Carlton answered. He was staring straight at Lloyd, missing Delilah's glare.

"Where's the ring?" Lloyd shot at him. Carlton unconsciously covered his left hand with his right. Lloyd grinned and inquired, "How long have you and the Misses been separated?"

"A little over two years," Carlton replied through gritted teeth.

"Hmm… isn't that when Gypsy started working for you? Did you find something better then your wife?"

Their eyes flew to each other, panic filling them. They both suddenly knew what this chat was going to be about.

Carlton shook his head and quickly stated, "No. My wife and I had been fighting for years before that, it was just coincidental about the time period."

"So you've never had a relationship with Gypsy?" Lloyd inquired, staring Carlton down. Carlton shook his definitely. "Really? Chief Vick, would you say Head Detective Lassiter is a good cop?"

Karen, stunned by such a simple question, took a moment to answer. "Yes, very good."

"What makes him so good?"

"He has one of the highest close rates in the department, is very good at his job, and I can trust him," Karen responded, glancing over at the man. He shifted in his seat.

"Then why isn't he chief?"

Karen blinked, dumbfounded. "Because I-"

"Is it because Detective Lassiter is such a bad cop he gets kidnapped by his suspects?"

"Lloyd, don't," Delilah pleaded.

"Everyone thought you had such balls to kidnap a cop, but I know you, you're too weak," Lloyd hissed in her ear. "How'd you manage not to get arrested? Detective Lassiter care to fill us in on the answer?"

Carlton stared at him for a little bit and then replied, "She got the upper hand and knocked me unconscious."

"How?"

"I flashed him," Delilah answered for him quickly.

"Shut up," Lloyd snapped, his temper showing up to the lunch.

"But that would have been pretty distracting though, letting me easily get the upper hand," she continued, ignoring Lloyd's angry glare.

"Keep your mouth shut, or you'll regret it," he ordered.

"But you want to know, and I'm such a good story teller," she retorted.

He grabbed the steak knife on the table and brought it up to her throat. Delilah became silent in just one gasp.

"Delilah!" Carlton cried, forgetting his senses. For a moment no one moved.


	11. Shot Through the Heart

**A/N:** I'm so sorry for the long delay in the update... but this chapter is finally finished. This took me forever to write and was very hard for me to finish. It just was hard to find the right moments to write. hopefully it turned out okay...

* * *

The focus was drawn off the knife to Carlton. The restaurant was filled with noisy life, but no one at that table heard any of it, that one little word still ringing in all of their ears.

"Delilah?" Karen whispered softly, staring at her detective, all her suspicions confirmed.

"Delilah. Delilah, Delilah, Delilah" Lloyd repeated, his grin gaining evilness each time he said the name. "She told you her name, still want to deny you were in a relationship?"

Carlton did not respond, horrified with himself for the secret he revealed. Lloyd was not pleased with this response. He pushed the knife a little harder into Delilah, knowing Carlton was watching and would react to this. He was right.

"Yes, we had a relationship," Carlton answered quickly.

Lloyd smiled, but the knife stayed put. "For how long?"

"One night thing." Delilah answered this time. "That's how I got away. I offered myself up and he took me up on it. Afterwards, I managed to handcuff him to a pole and leave. So there Lloyd, you have your answers. We were a relationship for one night, and I used my body to get of going to jail."

She was lying, and everyone knew it. Her voice was strong and confident, but it was her eyes that gave the lie.

"Really? Just for one night? Then why does he know your name?" Lloyd asked angrily, pushing the knife further into her neck. A small dribble of red started to run down Delilah's throat.

Without thinking Karen reached for her gun. Lloyd noticed this and suddenly remembered he had a gun. "I wouldn't do that Chief," he barked. "I've got a gun too and it's pointed right at you."

Karen stopped dead. Wondering if it could be bluff, she glanced at Delilah who confirmed that the threat was true with a nod. Karen slowly placed both hands on the table.

"Good, and just to make sure that doesn't happen again, Detective Lassiter, take out your handcuffs and handcuff Chief Vick to the table."

"What? No! Detective, do not take out your handcuffs," Karen ordered.

"Then how would you like a hole in your gut?" he threatened, his eyes narrowing at her.

She sighed and held out her hands. "Make it fast Detective."

Karen would not even look at Carlton as he bounded her to the table. She glanced under the table as her hands were chained to the table's leg, and tried to get a good look at this supposed gun. Once her moment of humiliation was done she stated, "Nice gun. What is that, .45?"

"Actually, it's Gypsy's, got it from her closet," Lloyd tattled.

"What? You were supposed to give up all your guns, that was part of your arrangement," Carlton scolded.

"Well maybe I kept a couple for moments like this when the person I put in jail came back for revenge," Delilah snapped at him.

"Maybe then you should have taken the protected custody if you were so worried about this," he snapped back.

"Sorry if I thought there was something worthwhile in staying here. I guess I was wrong," she retorted. Desperate to get her mind off of Carlton, she focused her attention on the man threatening her life. "And what are you even doing here? You are supposed to be serving three life sentences?"

"I love our appeals system and the crooked judge who presides over them," he explained in one sentence.

"So how much did it run you to get the judge to overturn your sentence?" Delilah asked causally.

"Seven fifty," Lloyd replied.

"Seven fifty what, hundred?" Karen clarified. When Lloyd's corner of his lip twitched at her suggestion, she knew she was off.

"Three fourths of a million dollars, you must have really missed me," Delilah commented, her voice extremely dry. "But really, I'm not worth that much."

"No, I agree with you, but destroying you is," he told her. "It took me two long years to find a damn judge that I could buy off. And during that time I realized that before I die I want to destroy you."

"Get over it," she replied, shocking everyone. "Ooh I turned you in, you've done worse to me. I have nightmares about you. You deserved being locked up, so be a man and suck it up."

As the table waited for the reaction of the man holding the gun, Karen was sure Delilah had finally pushed him too far. Instead though, Lloyd chuckled.

"So that's what this is all about, that night by the side of the road?" he questioned, finally understanding why Delilah had chosen him, of all the professional killers she knew, to turn over to the police.

"Shut up," she ordered, her eyes narrowing dangerously. For a brief moment she forgot that it was her life being threatened.

"Aw, did someone not have fun that night? I had plenty of fun, even if you were an unwilling participant, but once I got your pants off it was smooth sailing," he told her, his voice laughing at her pain. "At least you didn't cry."

Karen hated Delilah for a variety of reasons. There were the obvious ones, she was a killer, broke the law, and was not nice to Karen. Then there was what she did to Carlton. Karen had heard about Carlton's kidnapping ordeal and the consequences of it. She had heard the wild rumor that the two were actually lovers, something only spread around for laughs since it was so inconceivable. But then Karen had seen the look Carlton gave Delilah when she said she was turning herself in, and he had smiled for the first time since he found out he was passed up for the Chief of Police position. It was then Karen came to the conclusion that the wild outlandish rumor that buzzed around for comic relief was true, and that Carlton had given up his career for a woman who had yet to apologize for anything.

That was the true reason Karen hated Delilah. Delilah had not expressed any remorse for her actions; she had kept it hidden from the other woman. Yet Karen knew they were there. She had seen Delilah's sorrow one day in her office as Delilah eyes darted downwards, trying to hide the pain in them, and her lip had tensed, fighting the urge to quiver. In a moment though, Delilah's emotions were gone and she was stone again. Karen had been convinced then Delilah had no humanity left in her, and Karen's despite towards the killer had grown enormously ever since that moment.

It was not till Lloyd had praised her on her ability not to cry after one of the most horrific events that could happen, that Karen's heart went out to Delilah. Karen forgave her for not expressing her regret or pain, realizing that even if Delilah had wanted to, her body was trained so well not to, that she would not know how.

Karen watched as Delilah's eyes darkened with pain and anger, and thought for sure she was going to do something to get her killed, but to Karen's surprise Carlton was the one who acted first.

Carlton lunged across the table at Lloyd, too overwhelmed by his strong urge to hurt Lloyd for what he did to think clearly. The two sprawled to the ground, Carlton throwing punches like fastballs. Carlton had the upper hand for a couple of moments, managing to catch Lloyd off guard and throw in some decent punches. However, Lloyd was physically stronger, and quickly managed to start winning the fight.

By now the whole restaurant was staring at the brawl, but neither of the two men in it noticed that. They were too busy trying to hurt each other in the worst way possible. Both were oblivious to the mothers shaking their head in disproval about their violent behavior, the children watching with wide eyes, and the undercover cops that manage to sneak in reach towards their guns, just waiting for an opportunity.

Delilah watched, her eyes wide in fear as Carlton began to lose the confrontation. He was pushed on his back and Lloyd's hands were creeping around his neck. As panic rose in Carlton as the hands around his neck tightened, he looked for any means to save his life. The gun that previously had threatened the Chief, was laying only a few feet away, just asking to be used. He reached out for it, his fingers just grazing the barrel, but he was losing concentration, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. The hands were tighter then ever, and Carlton was fighting the urge to close his eyes, but was losing.

Delilah saw it, the moment Carlton closed his eyes and began to surrender. She was not about to let Lloyd take away the best thing in her life, so she took the steak knife that still had her blood on it and stabbed Lloyd in the side, right between two ribs. In an agonized groan he fell over to the side, and his hands disappeared around Carlton's neck.

"Carlton," Delilah cried, dropping down to check on him. She placed her hand on his cheek and whispered his name again, he had yet to open his eyes.

Carlton heard his name and slowly forced his eyes open. It took a moment, but Delilah came into focus, hovering just a few inches away from him. His eyes went to her red lips as they formed a smile when he whispered her name back. "Delilah."

"Are you alright?" she asked quickly, her nerves making her speak faster then she wanted.

"Fine, are you? Are you okay?" he asked back, his hand reaching up and touching her face.

"I'm-" she went to answer, but never got the chance. Lloyd was standing a few feet away, and now pointing the gun at them, the knife was still in his side.

"Isn't that precious? The two lovers caring for one another, one last time," he sneered. "Get up, now!"

Delilah slowly help Carlton up, all the while watching Lloyd carefully. Once Carlton was up he stepped in between Delilah and the gun.

"Calm down," Carlton stated in a soothing voice. "There are cops all over, don't do anything that will get yourself killed. Put down the gun, and you can still walk out of here."

"Yeah right Detective," Lloyd spat. "Why don't we continue on with our little truth chat? How long have you and, Delilah was it, been together? Don't lie, I have this gun pointed right at both of you."

"Almost seven years," Carlton answered gravely.

"See, was that so hard? All I want is the truth, keep telling it and Delilah will be fine," Lloyd promised with a nasty grin. "Now, tell us why you got passed over for the position of Chief?"

"They didn't think I had enough qualifications for the job."

"Bullshit, the real reason now!" Lloyd barked.

"I wouldn't tell them where Delilah was heading after she kidnapped me," Carlton replied. "I wouldn't tell them anything about it, so that was their punishment."

"There, now we're getting somewhere," Lloyd stated with a sneer, but then winced and brought a hand up to his knife wound.

"Why didn't you just tell them what you knew?" Delilah asked quietly. "You saw the boating supplies, you could have told them that I planned to take a boat out of the country. Why didn't you just do your job and tell the police that?"

"Yes, why didn't you Carlton?" Lloyd repeated grinning nastily.

"I didn't know for sure if that's what you planned to do, I didn't want to send them on a wild goose chase in the ocean," Carlton replied weakly.

Delilah stepped around to face Carlton and asked seriously, "Why didn't you tell?"

"Because I love you, okay?" he snapped. She stared at him wide eyed, and he went on, "I love you, and I didn't want you to get caught. I couldn't stand it if you were sent to jail, so I lied to protect you. I didn't tell them because I love you."

Delilah just stared at him, in shock, while Lloyd laughed in the background and taunted, "Aw, how sickeningly sweet. Do you have anything to say to him Delilah?"

She shook her head. "No I don't."

"What, no 'Aw, I love you too honey bear'?" he teased. When she just shook her head he got mad. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her closer and put the gun to her head. "I told you to tell the truth, now say if you love him or not, and don't lie! I know you do, so just say you do!"

After he yelled his order in her ear, Delilah shakily replied, "I love him."

"Say it to him," Lloyd demanded.

She glanced up into his pale blue eyes and barely controlled her voice as she said, "I love you."

"See, that's all I wanted," Lloyd told her.

"Why don't you just kill me? You're done with me, you humiliated me enough, why don't you just kill me already?" Delilah asked, almost pleadingly.

"No, I'm not done with you," Lloyd replied, gruffly. "I've already been to prison and I'm not going back, no one will hire me anymore, my life was destroyed by you, so I'm going to destroy yours and the best way I can think of is to break up that little deal with the FBI you have and take away the thing you love."

Delilah knew what he was going to do before he even moved the gun away from her head. Crying, she broke away from Lloyd and ran towards Carlton. Right as she reached in front of Carlton she felt it, a sharp stinging sensation in her back, and her body being lurched forward, into his.

Carlton felt Delilah's body fall against his and then a sharp pain in his gut. For a few moments neither one of them moved, they did not even breathe. Then, he felt something warm and gooey against his gut. He slowly angled his head down so he could get a look, but Delilah's pleas stopped him.

"Don't look," she begged in a whisper. "Just hold me, I want to feel safe."

"Okay," he whispered back, and wrapped his arms around her. He did not know how much time he had, so told her, "I'm sorry, for what I said."

She looked up at him, a small smile beginning to form on her ruby lips, the only thing on her face that still had color, but then her eyes drooped and her body went limp.

"Delilah!" he cried and laid her body down on the floor. He shook her and pleaded, "Delilah, wake up. Stay awake Delilah."

Her eyes fluttered open, and gazed up at Carlton and began, "I-"

Any sentiments she was going to express were lost by the sound of her gagging and coughing up blood. As blood trickled down the corner of her mouth, she closed her eyes and let her head fall to the side.

"Delilah!" he cried and attempted to wake her again. Shaking and hitting provide nothing, Carlton glanced around looking lost and confused, trying to find someone whom could help and make the world right again.

There is something to be said when a love one gets shot, you tend not to notice anything else. Carlton's ears went deaf to anything that was not Delilah. He had not heard the second gunshot after the bullet had pierced Delilah. His eyes did not see that shot hit Lloyd square in the neck, ripping out skin. He could not see Lloyd lying flat on his back, gargling in his own blood as he tried to take one last breath. Carlton did not recognize the Chief's yelling as she was being unhandcuffed, demanding to know who shot the second shot that was killing Lloyd.

The only thing Carlton registered when he looked around was Carla Pendas slipping something into her purse as she hurried towards the exit. She stopped for a moment, turned around and made eye contact with him. She gave him a reassuring smile, even though he could tell she was crying, and a quick nod of approval before she slipped out into the crowd of prettified civilians.

Approval? Did Carla approve of the way he handled their plan? Or was she finally approving his relationship with Delilah? Carlton had no time to ponder these questions. He glanced back at Delilah's lifeless body with a pool of blood collecting around her back, and he felt his heart break.

The pain was intense, but it was all in his side. He wondered if it was his heart that was breaking should not the pain be in his chest? He tried to ease the pain by applying pressure to his side, and that is when he found the hole in his shirt. He held his hand there and felt a warm gooey substance coming from the hole in his shirt.

Pulling his hand away, he remembered wondering which blood was his and which blood was Delilah's, but it was too red to tell. And that is all he could remember seeing, the bright red blood, before everything went black.


	12. General Hospital Nightmare

**A/N:** so I know this has been a while, but there are two reasons for that. The first one, writer's block and I hate finishing a story, I feel like I am letting it die. Second, was just on a cruise for 9 days where I had no way to write anything or update anyways. so sorry, this one is for who is still reading this!

* * *

_Beep, beep, beep, beep._

The steady high pitch sound was what Carlton woke up to. Glancing around, he saw a plain empty chair across the room, a small bathroom, a light blue curtain and an EKG machine. Clearly, he was in a hospital room.

He gazed over to the window and saw a badly drawn get well card next to a pineapple, he knew who it was from without even seeing the card's signature. Next to the pineapple were pink flowers brightening up the otherwise beige room.

"O'Hara," he grumbled, and forced himself to sit up. This caused a shooting pain in his side. His hand flopped for the help button, alerting the nurses he needed assistance, and then laid back waiting for relief.

Two sets of footsteps entered Carlton's hospital room, then he heard a familiar voice ask, "Is he awake? Does this mean he's awake?"

"Awake and in pain," he answered, opening his eyes and looking over at his partner and a nurse.

"Oh Carlton," Juliet cried and ran over to him to embrace him in a big hug.

He inhaled sharply from the pain her hug caused and the nurse asked, "Where does it hurt Detective?"

"Where I got shot," he grumbled miserably.

"Let me give you something for the pain," the nurse said sweetly, not fazed by his attitude. She injected a pain medication into his IV line and then stated, "You should be feeling better in no time. Just press the button if you need anything else."

As the nurse left Carlton asked, "What happened to the suspect?"

Juliet was shocked that this was his first question, but answered him anyhow. "He was shot and killed right after he-"

"Who shot him, was it Jones?" he questioned sinking into his bed.

"No, we don't know who shot him," Juliet clarified. "In all of the confusion no one saw the second shooter."

He nodded. "Good, any civilians hurt?"

"No, no civilians," she answered, staring at him strangely, wondering if he was ever going to ask.

"O'Hara, can I ask for a favor?"

She let out a sigh of relief, it was about time. She nodded and he requested, "Can you bring me the paperwork I have to fill out? It tends to pile up if I don't get to it right away."

"What?"

"The paperwork," he repeated.

"Sure, but isn't there something else you'd rather know?" she questioned desperately.

"If there's anything else I'll read it in the police report," he commented, dismissing her.

"Don't you want to know about-" she began, but he stopped her.

"I'll read it in the police report," he stated with all his force.

"Fine," she replied and got up to leave. She hesitated at the door, and said, "Just so you know, the hostage survived and is in intensive care, one floor up."

Then she left, and Carlton was glad, because then she could not see the tears he was hiding.

Later Carlton opened his eyes, glancing around a dark room there was a figure standing near his bed. He could not believe his eyes. "Delilah?"

"Hey Carlton," she greeted back, walking towards the bed. "How's the gut?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him and smiling. He just stared back, blinking dumbly. "You're, you're fine?"

She laughed a little. "Define fine." She brought her hand to her gut and then pulled it away, showing him blood. "Does that fit into your definition of fine?"

He gazed at the vivid red blood in horror, it seemed to be the brightest thing in the room. She noticed his wide eyes and shook her head. "Relax, it went straight through, it barely even stings anymore."

"Delilah, you…" His voice trailed off, the words not coming to him.

The door to his room flew open, the hallway light flooding in. He finally got a good look at her, and lost his voice completely. She was pale, huge blood spot that kept growing at her gut, and now a trail of blooding coming from the corner of her mouth. She got up and went towards the door. He almost puked seeing the big red circle on her back. Her hand reached the doorknob, and she turned back to him.

His mouth went dry and quietly he said, "Tell me you are shutting the door."

"Aren't you even going to say goodbye?" she asked, her voice a whisper and then walked through the door, shutting it behind her.

"No!" he cried, bolting up in his bed and looking around, panicked.

With his heart racing, the EKG machine matching his crazed rhythm, he glanced around his empty room. It was too dark to make out minor details, but he could tell no one else was with him. Taking deep elongated breaths, he tried to slow down his body, it failed. A nurse rushed in, and took a look at his EKG readout. She side glanced at him and asked, "Are you all right? There are some irregularities here."

"Fine, fine," he mumbled, and closed his eyes.

"Are you sure?" she questioned, all attention now focused on her patient.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, taking a moment to decide. "Actually, can you get me a wheelchair?"

The nurse tried to start a conversation, but Carlton was in no mood to talk once he said where he wanted to go. The nurse stopped at the door, it looked like any other hospital door, but Carlton knew better, she was in there. Room five sixteen, the woman who brought so much into his life was now in there, in intensive care.

"Here we are, five sixteen," the nurse told him. "Are you sure you don't want to hear anything about her condition?"

He shook his head and kept staring at the numbers, his eyes tracing the curves of the five and the six.

"All right then," the nurse muttered and went to open the door.

As her hand reached the door, Carlton's eyes tore away from the numbers, and his heart raced again.

"Stop, stop, I want to go back to my room," he demanded and tried to get out of the wheelchair to walk away.

"Alright, alright," the nurse replied and quickly made her way back to him, making sure he stayed put in the chair.

He closed his eyes, and put his face in his hands, silently hating himself. He made sure that he asked for drugs to help sleep that night.

"I'm glad to see you up and feeling better," Karen told Carlton the next day in his hospital room.

"Thank you chief," he responded, rubbing his face to refresh himself.

"I'm not going to sugar coat it Detective," she began, "the higher ups heard what happened and want to know if any of the things that were said were true."

"What, that I had a relationship with a murderer? I went behind police protocol to carry out an affair on my wife with a murder suspect in several cases that was wanted for questioning in eight different states at the time I met her? That I knew after almost two years what she was and still continued to see her for five years after that? Is that what they want to know is true?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"What if I said we broke what ever it is we were up, so technically we were not together at the time of the incident, would that help?" he asked, not truly caring.

Karen smiled to herself and shrugged. "Maybe. I told them you and I had talked about our hostage strategies before hand, and you were just going to agree and play along with what ever he said since the suspect was not responsive to the normal protocol."

Carlton turned and looked at his boss. "They bought that?"

"Of course, such a good cop like yourself, you're just following orders," she answered, grinning at him. He managed a small smile back.

"Thanks Chief," he replied.

"So… it ended between you and _Delilah_?" she ventured dangerously.

He glanced back towards the window and answered, "Yes."

"What happened?" she questioned.

"I can't even remember," he told her. "We fought and I called her a name. It's all a blur really."

She nodded and suggested, "You know, I bet you're probably well enough to get out of bed and take a walk around the hospital if you wanted to."

He knew what she was hinting at, and guilt panged his heart. "Yeah, I might do that after I rest," he lied.

"Good, rest is a good idea," she agreed, and then went to leave. Turning back to her valued employee, she said with a smile, "Take your time with getting better, I understand."

He nodded and closed his eyes wishing he was out of this hospital. He was getting his wish; he was to be discharged later that day.

Juliet O'Hara came to pick up her partner from the hospital, but she was not wearing her usual smile. Instead, she was frowning, almost scowling as she pushed Carlton's wheelchair. Trying to hide her anger, she clarified, "So, you haven't left your room at all?"

"No."

"How nice," she spat, anger bubbling inside her.

"Are you mad at me for something?" Carlton asked as she pushed him into an elevator. He had a theory of what would make his partner act like this, but he was willing to play dumb.

She did not answer, instead she pushed the button five, instead of the capital "G" with a star next to it.

"What are you doing?" he demanded to know.

As the elevator began to rise, she answered, "She told me once she felt like she would die without you, and now that might be a very good possibility and you haven't even seen her yet!"

"O'Hara, I do not need you telling me what to do!" he yelled.

"Then stop acting like a child and do the right thing," she shouted back.

"You're the one acting like a child with this stupid notion that we cared for each other. We were just means to an end for each other, we didn't care about each other and we did not love each other. So there is no need for me to see her," he hissed at his overly concerned partner. The elevator doors opened and he got out of his wheelchair and walked out. Turn back around to face Juliet he commended. "Now, if you know what's good for you, you should take this elevator back down and get out of the hospital and away from me."

He stormed off in the opposite direction of _the room_, while Juliet angrily hit the ground floor button. She did not come back up.

516. Five sixteen or was five hundred and sixteen, Carlton wondered as he stared at the door. He had contemplated it long enough, sitting across the door for over an hour. He was sick of seeing the blue plaque with the bright white numbers and that yellow tan fake wood door with its silver handle just taunting him. He needed to go in or leave the hospital and never willingly come back.

A crack and a pop panged his body as he got up from the floor. The feeling of being old and tired overwhelmed him, and he thought about the prescription for the pain medicine the doctors gave him. He decided he was going to get that filled as soon as possible.

Taking a deep sigh, his feet started moving and he hoped he would eventually forgive himself for his decision.

* * *

(It's sounding like he's not going to go in, isn't it?)

* * *

"Delilah?" he asked in the still room.

_Beep_ was all he got as an answer. The room's only light was coming in little lines made by the blinds. It was enough to see everything clearly though. Her room appeared exactly like his only a few more machines were hooked up to her, she had a bigger pineapple and two badly drawn cards from Shawn and Juliet had gave her some yellow flowers. Pulling up the uncomfortable chair to the bed, he sat and just stared for a while. Finally he needed to speak, to say anything.

"You cause so much paperwork," he blurted out, and then quickly silenced himself, as if waiting for a response from someone in a coma. He looked at her again, and wished he had walked away.

She was so uneasily pale, the color was gone from her body, and her lips that normally took all of his attention were this pale pink that he barely noticed. She looked so unnatural lying on her back, the covers perfect with no rumples in them. She tossed and turned in her sleep, but here she just stayed still. Carlton had to remind himself that she was not sleeping, she was not going to wake up.

"You just prance around without a care in the world," he said, when he could stand the silence no longer. "We have to fill out five different forms when you work with the police department, and all you have to do is leave and go about your merry way. And now this… this whole mess is going to be an endless amount of paperwork no matter what happens. You die, we have three forms for that. You wake up and live, then we need statements and medical records and it will take us at least a week to finish."

His voice began to falter, and he glanced over to the rhythmic beeping heart monitor. It seemed to be going much slower then it should, like her body was just easing into death.

"But if you just stay in a coma that's the easiest. One form and we're done," he explained to her. Tears sprang in his eyes as he remembered out loud, "But you don't want that. You never had. You want it to happen fast, not waiting in a long drawn out coma for death. You want to donate your organs and do some good now. You… you want to leave me. You want to leave me alone."

He could not hold back crying any longer. The tears came quickly and plentiful. There were no emotions left to hid, everything was exposed. He touched her body for the first time, thrilled to know she was still warm. Grabbing her hand and bring it up to his face, he mumbled, "You can't leave me alone, I'm not strong enough. I'm not strong; I need you to be here. You have to wake up because I can't kill you, and I can't function without you. You've been in my life for seven years, I need you to be in it seventeen, seventy more years at least. Please, I love you."

He grew silent, maybe because he was praying she heard him and would wake up, or maybe because he was too overwhelmed with fear of losing the woman he loved to say anything else. Not matter the reason she could not answer him.

He shook his head when she did not respond and began pleading, "I love you. I love you. I love you. Please, I loved you since the first time you smiled, don't leave me alone."

His head collapsed on the bed, his hand continued holding hers to his face as he kept muttering the same phrase, "I love you," over and over again. He only stopped when he ran out of tears. By then he was too invested to leave, even when a nurse tapped him on a shoulder and told him visiting hours were over.

His police badge let him get all the time in the world he wanted with her, but it would not bring her back. No matter, he could wait it out holding her hand.

* * *

So I really have no clue if Delilah is going to live or not... right now I could write it either way. I'm gonna have to sleep on it and decide, but your feed back would be great!


	13. 516 Room of Miracles

**A/N: **sorry, writer's block combined with the fact i lost wireless so i couldn't get online to upload. but i'm stopping with excuses, i think i kept u waiting long enough.

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Sleep came easier then Carlton expected. It must have only been a few hours, but it was still shocking he could close his eyes long enough to rest when Delilah was so close to leaving him for good. He rubbed his face, trying to wake his senses.

Sighing he squeezed Delilah's unresponsive hand, and greeted, "Hey, you planning on waking up today?"

No response. He frowned and continued to hold her hand.

She had no other visitors, it was just Carlton who stayed with her. It was a nurse that pointed out that fact. The nurse came in just to check on her patient, when she saw Carlton.

"Hello, so you must be the mystery girl's family," the nurse stated, smiling at him. "We were beginning to think she had none. The only people that have visited her were that detective and psychic, and that was once. It's nice to see she has someone."

Carlton blinked at her, the words sinking in. He muttered to himself, "I'm all she has."

"So how do know each other?" the nurse questioned, smiling.

He stared at her, not sure what to say. Then suddenly the words came out. "I love her. We met at a local restaurant almost seven years later. She's a very spontaneous person, and she just sat down with me. We talked about couples and relationships, feeling complete and feeling alone. Then at the end of it she left me her number and I called her the next day, and here we are now."

"Everything just kinda clicked into place, huh?" the nurse questioned, getting a goofy love stricken grin on her face.

"No, I was married seven years ago," he told her truthfully and that got that silly smile off her face, replaced by shock. "And nothing has ever just fallen into place with her. It's work, a lot of work. There were times when we couldn't see each other for months, and when we did in the morning one of us would already be gone. We've broken up countless of times, and I barely know anything about her life growing up or before she met me."

The nurse nodded, but looked like she had more to say, just trying to figure out how to put it delicately. "So why do you love her then?"

Carlton looked at the nurse strangely, like the answer was obvious. "She's a mystery that I will never solve, a case I can never close, and I love the thrill of it. And even though I know every time I find out something new about her I'll probably hate it, I still love learning something different, and with her I will always learn something different. That, and she has an amazing smile."

The nurse grinned at that statement. "I think it's great she has someone like you here for her."

He nodded, but suddenly got quiet and solemn. Taking a moment to steady his voice he asked, "What are her chances?"

The nurse also grew silent. "A doctor hasn't spoken to you yet?"

He shook his head. "No, I didn't want to hear it earlier, but I think I'm ready now. Is she ever going to wake up?"

He turned to look the nurse in the eye, and because of that she lost all willpower to tell him the life's not fair, honest truth. His face told the experienced nurse that he was expecting the worse, but the eyes tormented with pain told her he was hoping for the best.

"I'm sure you've heard the phrase that the first forty eight hours are crucial to comatose patients?" she began precisely.

"That is almost up, isn't it?" he replied, casting his eyes down at the tiled hospital floor.

"Yes, but to tell the truth, the third day is just as critical as the first two," she stated quickly. "She still has a chance to come back recover, from any time up till the first week. After that… well, there's still time for her, don't give up. Keep talking to her, she can hear you."

"How much longer till the first forty eight hours have past?" he questioned gravely.

After glancing at Delilah's chart and doing some quick math in her head, the nurse concluded, "A little under three hours."

"I'm gonna stay with her till then," he stated, holding her hand and brushing her hair off to the side.

The nurse gave a reassuring smile. "It might do her some good if you do."

With that the nurse left Carlton alone with his thoughts.

Over the next three hours Carlton did a lot of talking. He told Delilah about his life, growing up, his family, his best friend in high school, stories that he had not shared with anyone; he just wished she would wake up and laugh with him, and maybe share a couple stories of her own.

It was then he realized that even after almost seven years together, he still knew so little. Yet the surprising and frightening fact about the little he did know, was it was worlds more then everyone else. He stared at her lifeless body and wondered why she insisted on keeping so much of herself a secret.

At three hours, Carlton gave her hand a squeeze, hoping for a response. There was nothing, and Carlton let go of her hand. The nurse came in cautiously, and her face dropped when she saw the still comatose body.

"How you doing?" she asked, checking the IV bag.

He just shrugged and got up from his chair. He walked around, just staring at Delilah, till finally he couldn't stand it anymore. "I think I'm going to get some food."

She nodded, understandingly. "There's a great little diner a couple blocks down, Soundwave. Food might do you good."

"I know the place," he told her and headed for the door. He stopped, glancing at her again and cringed as he whispered, "She's an organ donor."

He quickly left, leaving the nurse very confused knowing she heard something.

Carlton did not pay much attention to the diner, he just found an empty booth off to the side and sat down. He flipped through the menu as the waitress, in her uniform that looked like it was from the 60s, came up to him. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

"Coffee and a water," he ordered, and then his stomach growled. Suddenly the words came out of his mouth without him thinking first. "And a couple pancakes."

"I'll get that right out," she replied and then bounced away.

Carlton frowned and wondered why he unexpectedly desired pancakes. He shrugged it off and looked around the diner at all the people. There were a couple of families crowding the tables, with children complaining or talking non-stop. There were a few couples or smaller groups chatting cheerily or sitting in a chilly silence together. The person he really did notice though was a man younger then him, sitting alone at the bar.

His back was hunched over a cup of coffee, glancing around looking at all the people. There was something in his search, some reason for it other then just the curiosity of his surroundings. It was almost as though he was searching for someone.

Carlton could not tear his eyes away from this man, not even when the waitress came over and plopped his drinks down for him, telling him the pancakes would be right out. The lone man entranced Carlton, though there was nothing in particular special about him. He was just a man by himself, drinking a coffee. Still, Carlton had this need to watch him, maybe just because they were both alone.

However, the man at the bar was not alone for long. A woman came over, slinging her arm around the man's shoulders, and pecked him lightly on the lips. Carlton tore his eyes away, scowling.

He did not like being jealous, he thought it was petty and beneath him. Nonetheless, when Carlton saw the seemingly happy couple jealousy washed over him and there was nothing he could do. He wanted that, he wanted Delilah to waltz in the diner, causing every head to turn, with only eyes for him. However her eyes were closed tight in the hospital room five sixteen.

The waitress wiggled her way over to Carlton's booth, dancing to a song in her head. She was humming to the tune as he dropped the plate in front of him. Pausing in her song, she smiled and asked, "Anything else I can get you?"

He glanced up at her, shocked by the song. After a moment, the waitress started to turn around and he suddenly requested, "A box for these pancakes."

Gripping the non-eco-friendly Styrofoam box of pancakes, Carlton took a deep breath and entered the hospital room. Delilah was still lying there, looking stiff as a board. He had not expected her to change, but he had secretly wished she would at least twitch.

He placed the Styrofoam container on her nightstand, and opened it up. The still warm pancakes wafted through the small hospital room. He cleared his throat and began singing the same song the waitress was humming before.

"_Why do you build me up, Buttercup baby just to let me down, mess me around. And the worst of all, you never call baby when you say you will, but I love you still. I need you, more then anyone baby; you know that I have from the start. So build me up, Buttercup baby, but don't break my heart_."

He waited, holding his breath, till he got a response. But he quickly stopped himself from hoping that she would reply. He knew better, so he took a deep breath and almost missed her groan.

"Delilah," he cried hopefully, and leaned over her hospital bed. He saw her eyes flicker open, and her mouth open in a gasp.

The gasp turned into a moan, and then she mumbled the word, "Pancakes."

He smiled, and stroked her face. "Yeah, I brought pancakes."

She glanced around confused. "Why?" she asked, her voice a harsh whisper.

He stared at her for a moment, before his thoughts burst through his mouth. "Because you were unconscious, and I didn't know if you were going to wake up. And I don't know anything about you except you sing when you make breakfast, you used to kill people as a living and you have the best smile I have ever seen. I shouldn't know about the first one because of the second one, but yet I do because I love you. And now I know something else about you, you're the person I love and I don't care about your past, I just want to spend my days getting to know everything about you. I want to wake up to you singing off key while you're making food."

Words like that would have normally made any girl go into a whirlwind of giddiness and happiness. Instead, Delilah got sad at his words of love.

"No," she stated simply.

"What?"

"There are some things I can never tell you, or anyone, things I will take to my grave. And there are things you can't understand, even if you try. I'm not someone you should be with, personal or professional."

Carlton shook his head. "Delilah for the last time, work is not all I care about. I want to be with you, I know what that means for my career, and I don't care."

"You could have been chief," she said, turning away from him.

"I knew what I was doing," he assured her, cupping her face. "I would pick you over chief any day."

She smiled at him, but then quickly frowned. "There are things I can't tell you though, I'll tell you everything else, but when I say I can't tell you, I mean it, got it?"

"Yes," he told her. After a moment he grinned and asked, "So does this mean we're in a relationship?"

"I guess we are," she answered back, with her first real smile since she woke up. "What do we do now?"

"You can tell me where you're from," he suggested.

"Montana," she replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Carlton grinned at her, and she grinned back. There was something in the smiles that just let the two lovers know everything was going to be all right. So, with that in mind Carlton leaned in and gave her a kiss that he hoped made up for all the time they lost dancing around their feelings.

Their kiss was interrupted by Shawn saying, "Aww, what a perfectly unexpected couple, that's only slightly awkward."

Carlton and Delilah glanced over and saw Shawn making a heart with his hand, peering through at the couple, standing next to Gus and Juliet.

"Spencer, what do you want?" Carlton growled.

"Freedom from my father's watchful eye, peace on Earth, my favorite coffee shop to start selling pineapple scones, but mostly I just wanted to see how my favorite hired gun was doing," Shawn explained finally dropping the handmade heart.

"I'm doing good," she told him from behind Carlton.

"That's great, so soon are u gonna show me how to kill a man with my thumb? Because I'm free all next week, and I figure by Wednesday you should be out of the hospital, so Wednesday night you could show me, using Gus as a-OW!"

Shawn stopped his rambling when Gus pinched his elbow. Rubbing his bruised elbow Shawn glared at Gus, who just rolled his eyes. "Shawn, I think they want some alone time. Let's leave them."

"But-"

"Now Shawn," Gus ordered, pushing Shawn towards the door. Nodding towards Carlton, Gus forced Shawn to exit, and followed him.

Juliet turned to leave too, but Delilah called out to her. "Hey Juliet?"

"Yeah?"

"We still on for lunch this week?" the former killer asked.

Juliet smiled and replied, "Yeah, same time and place?"

"Of course, see you then."

"Bye Delilah," Juliet responded and walked out grinning.

Carlton glanced at Delilah, completely confused. Delilah just grinned at him, and asked, "What, you don't think I can have a friend?"

"I'm just surprised it's someone who doesn't kill for a living," he told her.

Delilah just shrugged and stated, "Well, you know, you've changed me. I figure I've got to start hanging out with respectable people."

"Delilah, I… I-" he started, but could not finish.

"Just kiss me, I think you said enough already," she told him.

He followed orders, and kissed her. Afterwards, neither one could stop grinning.

**The End**

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**A/N: **yeah, she lived. I couldn't kill her. sorry for the long wait, but at least I gave everyone a happy ending! Thanks to everyone who stuck with the story, love ya!


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